{"instructions": ["Why did the Tr'en leave Korvin's door unlocked and a weapon nearby?\n\n (A) They were so caught up trying to figure out  Korvin's answers that they became somewhat careless in guarding him. \n (B) Their subconscious knew that Korvin was an insoluble problem. This same subconscious led them to provide resources for his escape so they wouldn't have to deal with him anymore. \n (C) They were tired of the Ruler's dictatorship and intentionally provided resources for Korvin's escape in hopes that he would help them overthrow the Ruler.  \n (D) After their interview with Korvin, they determined he was wasteful and confusing, but not a threat. In order to avoid another confusing interaction with him, they simply provided resources for his escape. ", "Why does the text mean when it says that Korvin was \"unconscious\" at the time of his lessons in the local language?\n\n (A) It means that the Tr'en put Korvin under drug hypnosis while they taught him their language. \n (B) It means that he was so bored out of his mind  during the language lessons that he was hardly conscious. \n (C) It means that the Tr'en came into Korvin's cell while he slept in order to use their advanced technology which quickly teaches the unconscious mind. \n (D) It means that the Tr'en knocked him out every night in order to use their advanced technology which quickly teaches the unconscious mind. ", "How was Korvin able to avoid disclosing the true intent of his mission under the lie detector questioning? \n\n (A) While he was strapped down in the lie-detector, Korvin subtly switched the wire that indicated a truth with the one that indicated a lie. \n (B) Korvin said truths that literally answered the Tr'en's questions but evaded the intent behind their questions. .\n (C) The Tr'en hadn't tested the lie-detector extensively enough and the machine was faulty. \n (D) Even with the Tr'en's language lessons, Korvin could only to speak in very simple terms and was unable to answer the Ruler's questions at the depth the Ruler was expecting.", "What is the most likely reason for Korvin's solitude in jail?\n\n (A) Solitary confinement was part of Korvin's punishment. \n (B) There weren't any other prisoners in the jail because virtually all of the Tr'en obey the Ruler. Those who don't obey are executed.\n (C) The Tr'en didn't want Korvin to interact with the other Tr'en prisoners because there was a chance that together they might incite an uprising. \n (D) The Tr'en are so logical and mathematic that they don't see the need for social interaction. ", "Why does the Tr'en's logic fail them?\n\n (A) Because the lie-detector was faulty and Korvin gave them an insoluble paradox.  \n (B) Because it's too mathematical and doesn't account for motivations, emotions, and what's left unsaid. \n (C) Because Korvin switched the wires on the lie-detector and gave the Tr'en an insoluble paradox. \n (D) Because it's tightly controlled by the Ruler who is quite simple minded. ", "Are there indications that the Tr'en would be interested in attacking Earth? Why or why not?\n\n (A) Both A and C are correct. \n (B) No, because Korvin sends a mission back to Earth Central saying that the Tr'en won't come marauding out into space. \n (C) Yes, because the expert mentions the idea of conquering Earth with Korvin's aid. \n (D) Yes, because the ruler says the he wants to know about Earth's weapons, plans, and fortifications. ", "The text says \"The expert frowned horribly.\" What makes the expert's smile so horrible?\n\n (A) The frown indicates that he's close to detecting Korvin's true motivations. \n (B) The frown indicates that he knows that Korvin switched the wires on the lie detector.  \n (C) The frown is a signal to the Ruler that Korvin is lying. \n (D) The frown is physically horrible because the Tr'en have fifty-eight, pointed teeth. ", "How did the Ruler become the Ruler?\n\n (A) He was adopted by the previous Ruler. \n (B) He overthrew the previous Ruler. \n (C) He is the biological son of the previous Ruler. \n (D) He was elected as Ruler by the Tr'en. ", "Why did the Tr'en think that Korvin was a traitor to Earth?\n\n (A) Because he answered all of the questions truthfully. \n (B) Because he didn't try to resist being strapped down into the lie-detector. \n (C) Because he crashed a ship onto Tr'en thus wasting Earth's resources. \n (D) Because they misinterpreted his positive responses to his \"failure\" as anti-Earth. ", "What is the best description of Korvin's job?\n\n (A) Land his ship on the Tr'en planet\n (B) Ensure the Tr'en evolve in their thinking before they start interstellar travel\n (C) Staying alive\n (D) Obey the commands of the Ruler of the Tr'en", "Why did the Tr'en let Korvin go?\n\n (A) He represented an unsolveable problem\n (B) He would not tell the truth\n (C) He disrespected the ruler\n (D) He refused to answer questions", "Why did Korvin have to word his questions to the guard carefully?\n\n (A) Because he wanted the guard to give him something to do\n (B) Because otherwise he would be harmed\n (C) Because he did not know the Tr'en language\n (D) Because the Tr'en do not infer the situational meaning of a question", "What were the topics of the Tr'en's questions to Korvin about Earth?\n\n (A) human physiology, weapons, space travel, government\n (B) human physiology, weapons, name, location, space travel, government\n (C) human physiology, weapons, name, location, government\n (D) human physiology, weapons, government", "How many sentences does this story have approximately?\n\n(A) 256\n(B) 450\n(C) 344\n(D) 406", "Extract all the named entities mentioned in the longest sentence from this story.\n(A) Korvin\n(B) Korvin, Tr'en\n(C) Tr'en\n(D) Earth, Tr'en", "What can we infer from the longest dialogue in the story\uff1f\n(A) The Ruler is elected by the subjects\n(B) An underling may be permitted to make some of his own decisions\n(C) The Ruler is adopted by the previous Ruler\n(D) Everyone is the governor"], "outputs": ["(B) Their subconscious knew that Korvin was an insoluble problem. This same subconscious led them to provide resources for his escape so they wouldn't have to deal with him anymore.", "(A) It means that the Tr'en put Korvin under drug hypnosis while they taught him their language.", "(B) Korvin said truths that literally answered the Tr'en's questions but evaded the intent behind their questions. .", "(B) There weren't any other prisoners in the jail because virtually all of the Tr'en obey the Ruler. Those who don't obey are executed.", "(B) Because it's too mathematical and doesn't account for motivations, emotions, and what's left unsaid.", "(D) Yes, because the ruler says the he wants to know about Earth's weapons, plans, and fortifications.", "(D) The frown is physically horrible because the Tr'en have fifty-eight, pointed teeth.", "(A) He was adopted by the previous Ruler.", "(D) Because they misinterpreted his positive responses to his \"failure\" as anti-Earth.", "(B) Ensure the Tr'en evolve in their thinking before they start interstellar travel", "(A) He represented an unsolveable problem", "(D) Because the Tr'en do not infer the situational meaning of a question", "(C) human physiology, weapons, name, location, government", "(D) 406", "(C) Tr'en\n", "(C) The Ruler is adopted by the previous Ruler"], "input": "LOST    IN    TRANSLATION \n\n   By \n\n   LARRY M.    HARRIS   \n\n    In language translation, you may get a literally accurate\n word-for-word translation ... but miss the meaning entirely. And in\n space-type translation ... the effect may be the same!   \n\n   Illustrated by Schoenherr   \n\n   The cell had been put together more efficiently than any Korvin had\n ever been in. But that was only natural, he told himself sadly; the\n Tr'en were an efficient people. All the preliminary reports had agreed\n on that; their efficiency, as a matter of fact, was what had made\n Korvin's arrival a necessity. They were well into the atomic era, and\n were on the verge of developing space travel. Before long they'd be\n settling the other planets of their system, and then the nearer stars.\n Faster-than-light travel couldn't be far away, for the magnificently\n efficient physical scientists of the Tr'en\u2014and that would mean, in\n the ordinary course of events, an invitation to join the Comity of\n Planets. \n\n   An invitation, the Comity was sure, which the Tr'en would not accept. \n\n   Korvin stretched out on the cell's single bunk, a rigid affair which\n was hardly meant for comfort, and sighed. He'd had three days of\n isolation, with nothing to do but explore the resources of his own\n mind. He'd tried some of the ancient Rhine experiments, but that was\n no good; he still didn't show any particular psi talents. He couldn't\n unlock the cell door with his unaided mind; he couldn't even alter the\n probability of a single dust-mote's Brownian path through the somewhat\n smelly air. Nor could he disappear from his cell and appear, as if by\n magic, several miles away near the slightly-damaged hulk of his ship,\n to the wonder and amazement of his Tr'en captors. \n\n   He could do, as a matter of fact, precisely nothing. He wished quietly\n that the Tr'en had seen fit to give him a pack of cards, or a book, or\n even a folder of tourist pictures. The Wonders of Tr'en, according to\n all the advance reports, were likely to be pretty boring, but they'd\n have been better than nothing. \n\n   In any decently-run jail, he told himself with indignation, there\n would at least have been other prisoners to talk to. But on Tr'en\n Korvin was all alone. \n\n   True, every night the guards came in and gave him a concentrated\n lesson in the local language, but Korvin failed to get much pleasure\n out of that, being unconscious at the time. But now he was equipped to\n discuss almost anything from philosophy to plumbing, but there was\n nobody to discuss it with. He changed position on the bunk and stared\n at the walls. The Tr'en were efficient; there weren't even any\n imperfections in the smooth surface to distract him. \n\n   He wasn't tired and he wasn't hungry; his captors had left him with a\n full stock of food concentrates. \n\n   But he was almightily bored, and about ready to tell anything to\n anyone, just for the chance at a little conversation. \n\n   As he reached this dismal conclusion, the cell door opened. Korvin got\n up off the bunk in a hurry and spun around to face his visitor. \n\n   The Tr'en was tall, and slightly green. \n\n   He looked, as all the Tr'en did, vaguely humanoid\u2014that is, if you\n don't bother to examine him closely. Life in the universe appeared to\n be rigidly limited to humanoid types on oxygen planets; Korvin didn't\n know why, and neither did anybody else. There were a lot of theories,\n but none that accounted for all the facts satisfactorily. Korvin\n really didn't care about it; it was none of his business. \n\n   The Tr'en regarded him narrowly through catlike pupils. \"You are\n Korvin,\" he said. \n\n   It was a ritual, Korvin had learned. \"You are of the Tr'en,\" he\n replied. The green being nodded. \n\n   \"I am Didyak of the Tr'en,\" he said. Amenities over with, he relaxed\n slightly\u2014but no more than slightly\u2014and came into the cell, closing\n the door behind him. Korvin thought of jumping the Tr'en, but decided\n quickly against it. He was a captive, and it was unwise to assume that\n his captors had no more resources than the ones he saw: a small\n translucent pistollike affair in a holster at the Tr'en's side, and a\n small knife in a sheath at the belt. Those Korvin could deal with; but\n there might be almost anything else hidden and ready to fire on him. \n\n   \"What do you want with me?\" Korvin said. The Tr'en speech\u2014apparently\n there was only one language on the planet\u2014was stiff and slightly\n awkward, but easily enough learned under drug hypnosis; it was the\n most rigorously logical construction of its kind Korvin had ever come\n across. It reminded him of some of the mathematical metalanguages he'd\n dealt with back on Earth, in training; but it was more closely and\n carefully constructed than even those marvels. \n\n   \"I want nothing with you,\" Didyak said, leaning against the\n door-frame. \"You have other questions?\" \n\n   Korvin sighed. \"What are you doing here, then?\" he asked. As\n conversation, it wasn't very choice; but it was, he admitted, better\n than solitude. \n\n   \"I am leaning against the door,\" Didyak said. The Tr'en literalist\n approach to the smallest problems of everyday living was a little hard\n to get the hang of, Korvin told himself bitterly. He thought for a\n second. \n\n   \"Why did you come to me?\" he said at last. \n\n   Didyak beamed at him. The sight was remarkably unpleasant, involving\n as it did the disclosure of the Tr'en fifty-eight teeth, mostly\n pointed. Korvin stared back impassively. \"I have been ordered to come\n to you,\" Didyak said, \"by the Ruler. The Ruler wishes to talk with\n you.\" \n\n   It wasn't quite \"talk\"; that was a general word in the Tr'en language,\n and Didyak had used a specific meaning, roughly: \"gain information\n from, by peaceful and vocal means.\" Korvin filed it away for future\n reference. \"Why did the Ruler not come to me?\" Korvin asked. \n\n   \"The Ruler is the Ruler,\" Didyak said, slightly discomfited. \"You are\n to go to him. Such is his command.\" \n\n   Korvin shrugged, sighed and smoothed back his hair. \"I obey the\n command of the Ruler,\" he said\u2014another ritual. Everybody obeyed the\n command of the Ruler. If you didn't, you never had a second chance to\n try. \n\n   But Korvin meant exactly what he'd said. He was going to obey the\n commands of the Ruler of the Tr'en\u2014and remove the Tr'en threat from\n the rest of the galaxy forever. \n\n   That, after all, was his job.  \n   The Room of the Ruler was large, square and excessively brown. The\n walls were dark-brown, the furnishings\u2014a single great chair, several\n kneeling-benches and a small table near the chair\u2014were light-brown,\n of some metallic substance, and even the drapes were tan. It was,\n Korvin decided, much too much of a bad idea, even when the color\n contrast of the Tr'en themselves were figured in. \n\n   The Ruler himself, a Tr'en over seven feet tall and correspondingly\n broad, sat in the great chair, his four fingers tapping gently on the\n table near him, staring at Korvin and his guards. The guards stood on\n either side of their captive, looking as impassive as jade statues,\n six and a half feet high. \n\n   Korvin wasn't attempting to escape. He wasn't pleading with the Ruler.\n He wasn't defying the Ruler, either. He was just answering questions. \n\n   The Tr'en liked to have everything clear. They were a logical race.\n The Ruler had started with Korvin's race, his name, his sex\u2014if\n any\u2014and whether or not his appearance were normal for humanity. \n\n   Korvin was answering the last question. \"Some men are larger than I\n am,\" he said, \"and some are smaller.\" \n\n   \"Within what limits?\" \n\n   Korvin shrugged. \"Some are over eight feet tall,\" he said, \"and others\n under four feet.\" He used the Tr'en measurement scale, of course; it\n didn't seem necessary, though, to mention that both extremes of height\n were at the circus-freak level. \"Then there is a group of humans,\" he\n went on, \"who are never more than a foot and a half in height, and\n usually less than that\u2014approximately nine or ten inches. We call\n these     children    ,\" he volunteered helpfully. \n\n   \"Approximately?\" the Ruler growled. \"We ask for precision here,\" he\n said. \"We are scientific men. We are exact.\" \n\n   Korvin nodded hurriedly. \"Our race is more ... more approximate,\" he\n said apologetically. \n\n   \"Slipshod,\" the Ruler muttered. \n\n   \"Undoubtedly,\" Korvin agreed politely. \"I'll try to do the best I can\n for you.\" \n\n   \"You will answer my questions,\" the Ruler said, \"with exactitude.\" He\n paused, frowning slightly. \"You landed your ship on this planet,\" he\n went on. \"Why?\" \n\n   \"My job required it,\" Korvin said. \n\n   \"A clumsy lie,\" the Ruler said. \"The ship crashed; our examinations\n prove that beyond any doubt.\" \n\n   \"True,\" Korvin said. \n\n   \"And it is your job to crash your ship?\" the Ruler said. \"Wasteful.\" \n\n   Korvin shrugged again. \"What I say is true,\" he announced. \"Do you\n have tests for such matters?\" \n\n   \"We do,\" the Ruler told him. \"We are an exact and a scientific race. A\n machine for the testing of truth has been adjusted to your physiology.\n It will be attached to you.\" \n\n   Korvin looked around and saw it coming through the door, pushed by two\n technicians. It was large and squat and metallic, and it had wheels,\n dials, blinking lights, tubes and wires, and a seat with armrests and\n straps. It was obviously a form of lie-detector\u2014and Korvin felt\n himself marveling again at this race. Earth science had nothing to\n match their enormous command of the physical universe; adapting a\n hypnop\u00e6dic language-course to an alien being so quickly had been\n wonder enough, but adapting the perilously delicate mechanisms that\n necessarily made up any lie-detector machinery was almost a miracle.\n The Tr'en, under other circumstances, would have been a valuable\n addition to the Comity of Nations. \n\n   Being what they were, though, they could only be a menace. And\n Korvin's appreciation of the size of that menace was growing hourly. \n\n   He hoped the lie-detector had been adjusted correctly. If it showed\n him telling an untruth, he wasn't likely to live long, and his\n job\u2014not to mention the strongest personal inclinations\u2014demanded most\n strongly that he stay alive. \n\n   He swallowed hard. But when the technicians forced him down into the\n seat, buckled straps around him, attached wires and electrodes and\n elastic bands to him at appropriate places and tightened some final\n screws, he made no resistance. \n\n   \"We shall test the machine,\" the Ruler said. \"In what room are you?\" \n\n   \"In the Room of the Ruler,\" Korvin said equably. \n\n   \"Are you standing or sitting?\" \n\n   \"I am sitting,\" Korvin said. \n\n   \"Are you a     chulad    ?\" the Ruler asked. A     chulad    was a small native\n pet, Korvin knew, something like a greatly magnified deathwatch\n beetle. \n\n   \"I am not,\" he said.  \n   The Ruler looked to his technicians for a signal, and nodded on\n receiving it. \"You will tell an untruth now,\" he said. \"Are you\n standing or sitting?\" \n\n   \"I am standing,\" Korvin said. \n\n   The technicians gave another signal. The Ruler looked, in his frowning\n manner, reasonably satisfied. \"The machine,\" he announced, \"has been\n adjusted satisfactorily to your physiology. The questioning will now\n continue.\" \n\n   Korvin swallowed again. The test hadn't really seemed extensive enough\n to him. But, after all, the Tr'en knew their business, better than\n anyone else could know it. They had the technique and the logic and\n the training. \n\n   He hoped they were right. \n\n   The Ruler was frowning at him. Korvin did his best to look receptive.\n \"Why did you land your ship on this planet?\" the Ruler said. \n\n   \"My job required it,\" Korvin said. \n\n   The Ruler nodded. \"Your job is to crash your ship,\" he said. \"It is\n wasteful but the machines tell me it is true. Very well, then; we\n shall find out more about your job. Was the crash intentional?\" \n\n   Korvin looked sober. \"Yes,\" he said. \n\n   The Ruler blinked. \"Very well,\" he said. \"Was your job ended when the\n ship crashed?\" The Tr'en word, of course, wasn't     ended    , nor did it\n mean exactly that. As nearly as Korvin could make out, it meant\n \"disposed of for all time.\" \n\n   \"No,\" he said. \n\n   \"What else does your job entail?\" the Ruler said. \n\n   Korvin decided to throw his first spoke into the wheel. \"Staying\n alive.\" \n\n   The Ruler roared. \"Do not waste time with the obvious!\" he shouted.\n \"Do not try to trick us; we are a logical and scientific race! Answer\n correctly.\" \n\n   \"I have told the truth,\" Korvin said. \n\n   \"But it is not\u2014not the truth we want,\" the Ruler said. \n\n   Korvin shrugged. \"I replied to your question,\" he said. \"I did not\n know that there was more than one kind of truth. Surely the truth is\n the truth, just as the Ruler is the Ruler?\" \n\n   \"I\u2014\" The Ruler stopped himself in mid-roar. \"You try to confuse the\n Ruler,\" he said at last, in an approximation of his usual one. \"But\n the Ruler will not be confused. We have experts in matters of\n logic\"\u2014the Tr'en word seemed to mean     right-saying    \u2014\"who will advise\n the Ruler. They will be called.\" \n\n   Korvin's guards were standing around doing nothing of importance now\n that their captor was strapped down in the lie-detector. The Ruler\n gestured and they went out the door in a hurry. \n\n   The Ruler looked down at Korvin. \"You will find that you cannot trick\n us,\" he said. \"You will find that such fiddling\"\u2014     chulad-like    Korvin\n translated\u2014\"attempts will get you nowhere.\" \n\n   Korvin devoutly hoped so.  \n   The experts in logic arrived shortly, and in no uncertain terms Korvin\n was given to understand that logical paradox was not going to confuse\n anybody on the planet. The barber who did, or didn't, shave himself,\n the secretary of the club whose members were secretaries, Achilles and\n the tortoise, and all the other lovely paradox-models scattered around\n were so much primer material for the Tr'en. \"They can be treated\n mathematically,\" one of the experts, a small emerald-green being, told\n Korvin thinly. \"Of course, you would not understand the mathematics.\n But that is not important. You need only understand that we cannot be\n confused by such means.\" \n\n   \"Good,\" Korvin said. \n\n   The experts blinked. \"Good?\" he said. \n\n   \"Naturally,\" Korvin said in a friendly tone. \n\n   The expert frowned horribly, showing all of his teeth. Korvin did his\n best not to react. \"Your plan is a failure,\" the expert said, \"and you\n call this a good thing. You can mean only that your plan is different\n from the one we are occupied with.\" \n\n   \"True,\" Korvin said. \n\n   There was a short silence. The expert beamed. He examined the\n indicators of the lie-detector with great care. \"What is your plan?\"\n he said at last, in a conspiratorial whisper. \n\n   \"To answer your questions, truthfully and logically,\" Korvin said. \n\n   The silence this time was even longer. \n\n   \"The machine says that you tell the truth,\" the experts said at last,\n in a awed tone. \"Thus, you must be a traitor to your native planet.\n You must want us to conquer your planet, and have come here secretly\n to aid us.\" \n\n   Korvin was very glad that wasn't a question. It was, after all, the\n only logical deduction. \n\n   But it happened to be wrong.  \n   \"The name of your planet is Earth?\" the Ruler asked. A few minutes had\n passed; the experts were clustered around the single chair. Korvin was\n still strapped to the machine; a logical race makes use of a traitor,\n but a logical race does not trust him. \n\n   \"Sometimes,\" Korvin said. \n\n   \"It has other names?\" the Ruler said. \n\n   \"It has no name,\" Korvin said truthfully. The Tr'en idiom was like the\n Earthly one; and certainly a planet had no name. People attached names\n to it, that was all. It had none of its own. \n\n   \"Yet you call it Earth?\" the Ruler said. \n\n   \"I do,\" Korvin said, \"for convenience.\" \n\n   \"Do you know its location?\" the Ruler said. \n\n   \"Not with exactitude,\" Korvin said. \n\n   There was a stir. \"But you can find it again,\" the Ruler said. \n\n   \"I can,\" Korvin said. \n\n   \"And you will tell us about it?\" the Ruler went on. \n\n   \"I will,\" Korvin said, \"so far as I am able.\" \n\n   \"We will wish to know about weapons,\" the Ruler said, \"and about plans\n and fortifications. But we must first know of the manner of decision\n on this planet. Is your planet joined with others in a government or\n does it exist alone?\" \n\n   Korvin nearly smiled. \"Both,\" he said. \n\n   A short silence was broken by one of the attendant experts. \"We have\n theorized that an underling may be permitted to make some of his own\n decisions, leaving only the more extensive ones for the master. This\n seems to us inefficient and liable to error, yet it is a possible\n system. Is it the system you mean?\" \n\n   Very sharp, Korvin told himself grimly. \"It is,\" he said. \n\n   \"Then the government which reigns over several planets is supreme,\"\n the Ruler said. \n\n   \"It is,\" Korvin said. \n\n   \"Who is it that governs?\" the Ruler said. \n\n   The key question had, at last, been asked. Korvin felt grateful that\n the logical Tr'en had determined to begin from the beginning, instead\n of going off after details of armament first; it saved a lot of time. \n\n   \"The answer to that question,\" Korvin said, \"cannot be given to you.\" \n\n   \"Any question of fact has an answer,\" the Ruler snapped. \"A paradox is\n not involved here; a government exists, and some being is the\n governor. Perhaps several beings share this task; perhaps machines do\n the work. But where there is a government, there is a governor. Is\n this agreed?\" \n\n   \"Certainly,\" Korvin said. \"It is completely obvious and true.\" \n\n   \"The planet from which you come is part of a system of planets which\n are governed, you have said,\" the Ruler went on. \n\n   \"True,\" Korvin said. \n\n   \"Then there is a governor for this system,\" the Ruler said. \n\n   \"True,\" Korvin said again. \n\n   The ruler sighed gently. \"Explain this governor to us,\" he said. \n\n   Korvin shrugged. \"The explanation cannot be given to you.\" \n\n   The Ruler turned to a group of his experts and a short muttered\n conversation took place. At its end the Ruler turned his gaze back to\n Korvin. \"Is the deficiency in you?\" he said. \"Are you in some way\n unable to describe this government?\" \n\n   \"It can be described,\" Korvin said. \n\n   \"Then you will suffer unpleasant consequences if you describe it to\n us?\" the Ruler went on. \n\n   \"I will not,\" Korvin said. \n\n   It was the signal for another conference. With some satisfaction,\n Korvin noticed that the Tr'en were becoming slightly puzzled; they\n were no longer moving and speaking with calm assurance. \n\n   The plan was taking hold. \n\n   The Ruler had finished his conference. \"You are attempting again to\n confuse us,\" he said. \n\n   Korvin shook his head earnestly. \"I am attempting,\" he said, \"not to\n confuse you.\" \n\n   \"Then I ask for an answer,\" the Ruler said. \n\n   \"I request that I be allowed to ask a question,\" Korvin said. \n\n   The Ruler hesitated, then nodded. \"Ask it,\" he said. \"We shall answer\n it if we see fit to do so.\" \n\n   Korvin tried to look grateful. \"Well, then,\" he said, \"what is your\n government?\" \n\n   The Ruler beckoned to a heavy-set green being, who stepped forward\n from a knot of Tr'en, inclined his head in Korvin's direction, and\n began. \"Our government is the only logical form of government,\" he\n said in a high, sweet tenor. \"The Ruler orders all, and his subjects\n obey. In this way uniformity is gained, and this uniformity aids in\n the speed of possible action and in the weight of action. All Tr'en\n act instantly in the same manner. The Ruler is adopted by the previous\n Ruler; in this way we are assured of a common wisdom and a steady\n judgment.\" \n\n   \"You have heard our government defined,\" the Ruler said. \"Now, you\n will define yours for us.\" \n\n   Korvin shook his head. \"If you insist,\" he said, \"I'll try it. But you\n won't understand it.\" \n\n   The Ruler frowned. \"We shall understand,\" he said. \"Begin. Who governs\n you?\" \n\n   \"None,\" Korvin said. \n\n   \"But you are governed?\" \n\n   Korvin nodded. \"Yes.\" \n\n   \"Then there is a governor,\" the Ruler insisted. \n\n   \"True,\" Korvin said. \"But everyone is the governor.\" \n\n   \"Then there is no government,\" the Ruler said. \"There is no single\n decision.\" \n\n   \"No,\" Korvin said equably, \"there are many decisions binding on all.\" \n\n   \"Who makes them binding?\" the Ruler asked. \"Who forces you to accept\n these decisions? Some of them must be unfavorable to some beings?\" \n\n   \"Many of them are unfavorable,\" Korvin said. \"But we are not forced to\n accept them.\" \n\n   \"Do you act against your own interests?\" \n\n   Korvin shrugged. \"Not knowingly,\" he said. The Ruler flashed a look at\n the technicians handling the lie-detector. Korvin turned to see their\n expression. They needed no words; the lie-detector was telling them,\n perfectly obviously, that he was speaking the truth. But the truth\n wasn't making any sense. \"I told you you wouldn't understand it,\" he\n said. \n\n   \"It is a defect in your explanation,\" the Ruler almost snarled. \n\n   \"My explanation is as exact as it can be,\" he said. \n\n   The Ruler breathed gustily. \"Let us try something else,\" he said.\n \"Everyone is the governor. Do you share a single mind? A racial mind\n has been theorized, though we have met with no examples\u2014\" \n\n   \"Neither have we,\" Korvin said. \"We are all individuals, like\n yourselves.\" \n\n   \"But with no single ruler to form policy, to make decisions\u2014\" \n\n   \"We have no need of one,\" Korvin said calmly. \n\n   \"Ah,\" the Ruler said suddenly, as if he saw daylight ahead. \"And why\n not?\" \n\n   \"We call our form of government     democracy    ,\" Korvin said. \"It means\n the rule of the people. There is no need for another ruler.\" \n\n   One of the experts piped up suddenly. \"The beings themselves rule each\n other?\" he said. \"This is clearly impossible; for, no one being can\n have the force to compel acceptance of his commands. Without his\n force, there can be no effective rule.\" \n\n   \"That is our form of government,\" Korvin said. \n\n   \"You are lying,\" the expert said. \n\n   One of the technicians chimed in: \"The machine tells us\u2014\" \n\n   \"Then the machine is faulty,\" the expert said. \"It will be corrected.\" \n\n   Korvin wondered, as the technicians argued, how long they'd take\n studying the machine, before they realized it didn't have any defects\n to correct. He hoped it wasn't going to be too long; he could foresee\n another stretch of boredom coming. And, besides, he was getting\n homesick. \n\n   It took three days\u2014but boredom never really had a chance to set in.\n Korvin found himself the object of more attention than he had hoped\n for; one by one, the experts came to his cell, each with a different\n method of resolving the obvious contradictions in his statements. \n\n   Some of them went away fuming. Others simply went away, puzzled. \n\n   On the third day Korvin escaped. \n\n   It wasn't very difficult; he hadn't thought it would be. Even the most\n logical of thinking beings has a subconscious as well as a conscious\n mind, and one of the ways of dealing with an insoluble problem is to\n make the problem disappear. There were only two ways of doing that,\n and killing the problem's main focus was a little more complicated.\n That couldn't be done by the subconscious mind; the conscious had to\n intervene somewhere. And it couldn't. \n\n   Because that would mean recognizing, fully and consciously, that the\n problem     was    insoluble. And the Tr'en weren't capable of that sort of\n thinking. \n\n   Korvin thanked his lucky stars that their genius had been restricted\n to the physical and mathematical. Any insight at all into the mental\n sciences would have given them the key to his existence, and his\n entire plan, within seconds. \n\n   But, then, it was lack of that insight that had called for this\n particular plan. That, and the political structure of the Tr'en. \n\n   The same lack of insight let the Tr'en subconscious work on his\n escape without any annoying distractions in the way of deep\n reflection. Someone left a door unlocked and a weapon nearby\u2014all\n quite intent, Korvin was sure. Getting to the ship was a little more\n complicated, but presented no new problems; he was airborne, and then\n space-borne, inside of a few hours after leaving the cell. \n\n   He set his course, relaxed, and cleared his mind. He had no psionic\n talents, but the men at Earth Central did; he couldn't receive\n messages, but he could send them. He sent one now.  \n    Mission accomplished; the Tr'en aren't about to come\n marauding out into space too soon. They've been given food\n for thought\u2014nice indigestible food that's going to stick in\n their craws until they finally manage to digest it. But they\n can't digest it and stay what they are; you've got to be\n democratic, to some extent, to understand the idea. What\n keeps us obeying laws we ourselves make? What keeps us\n obeying laws that make things inconvenient for us? Sheer\n self-interest, of course\u2014but try to make a Tr'en see it!       With one government and one language, they just weren't\n equipped for translation. They were too efficient physically\n to try for the mental sciences at all. No mental sciences,\n no insight into my mind or their own\u2014and that means no\n translation.       But\u2014damn it\u2014I wish I were home already.       I'm bored absolutely stiff!  \n   THE END \n\n   ", "source": "quality_raw", "evaluation": "exam"}
{"instructions": ["Why did people say the story about Clinton hiding under a blanket to meet a woman was untrue?\n\n (A) They know Clinton cheats on his wife\n (B) They were Clinton-haters\n (C) He could not have gotten back home without being found out\n (D) It was published by the Washington Times", "What made it easier for previous presidents to get away with adultery?\n\n (A) Their staff did not know\n (B) They always tried to hide it well\n (C) The secret service budget was small\n (D) The reporters never found out", "Why did the press not report on JFK's adultery?\n\n (A) They suspected it but did not want to print this kind of story\n (B) They knew about it but felt threatened\n (C) They suspected it but did not know for sure\n (D) They never suspected it", "Where in the White House is it feasible for the president to meet a woman?\n\n (A) Only the East Wing\n (B) Only the private quarters\n (C) Only the oval office, bowling alley, or East Wing\n (D) Only the private quarters or the office restroom", "What is the best way for a president to sneak a woman into the White House?\n\n (A) Through the service elevator\n (B) Through the oval office\n (C) Through the tunnel\n (D) Through the gate", "According to The Washington Times, \n\n (A) No president before Clinton had an affair while in the White house.\n (B) The Secret Service is more of an \"in name only\" title, and there was no way they could keep an eye on Clinton all the time, so they probably knew nothing of the affair.\n (C) There are no fewer than five possible explanations of how Clinton had an affair without the world finding out faster than it did.\n (D) It would be almost impossible for Clinton to have had an affair without the Secret Service knowing.", "Who was on the list of those who knew about Kennedy's affair?\n\n (A) The Secret Service members were the only ones who knew what was going on.\n (B) His wife and mistress were the only two who knew about the affair.\n (C) He did not have an affair.\n (D) His aids, secretary, drivers, guards, Secret Service, the domestic staff, and many friends and family members of both parties.", "How did Kennedy make it much more difficult for Clinton to have an affair while in office?\n\n (A) He didn't, as he was a faithful man.\n (B) He was so well known for his affairs that a committee was employed simply to keep an eye on all President's personal lives after he left office.\n (C) Kennedy did not want to think of other presidents having affairs while in office, so he created a protocol for the White House staff to follow from then on.\n (D) After his death, the number of Secret Service agents multiplied exponentially, meaning that the President was virtually never alone.", "How does Camp David come into play if the President wants to \"entertain\" someone, not his wife?\n\n (A) He has to invite his trusted friends and staffers for a getaway, not invite his wife, and ensure that the lady friend is on the guest list.  \n (B) It is not suggested, as there are too many ways his wife and the media can find out about what is going on.\n (C) He must place faith in the fact that his wife will be occupied in a different area of Camp David when he is scheduled to meet with his lady friend.\n (D) He has the Navy and Marines to protect shield him from his wife.", "The most \"foolproof\" plan for the President to carry on an affair is\n\n (A) Make sure that he pays off anyone who is involved or sees any indiscretions.\n (B) Simply have an affair and forget about the coverup.\n (C) Get his wife's permission, and the rest does not matter.\n (D) To have a conjoining room with an aid, have the woman go to the aid's room, then come through the conjoining door.  When the evening is over, she goes back the way she came.", "How many times does the word \"but/But\" appear in this sotry\n\n(A) about 15\n(B) about 20\n(C) about 10\n(D) about25", "What can we infer from the longest sentence in this story?\n\n(A) Kennedy conducted his affairs brazenly because he trusted reporters not to write about them. \n(B) The Washington Times is expressing great excitement about a new book written by a former FBI agent.\n(C) Clinton cannot avoid Secret Service protection. \n(D) the current president has every reason not to trust his Secret Service detail.", "How many times do personal pronouns appear in the article?\n\n(A) about 109\n(B) about 129\n(C) about 119\n(D) about 99"], "outputs": ["(C) He could not have gotten back home without being found out", "(C) The secret service budget was small", "(A) They suspected it but did not want to print this kind of story", "(D) Only the private quarters or the office restroom", "(D) Through the gate", "(D) It would be almost impossible for Clinton to have had an affair without the Secret Service knowing.", "(D) His aids, secretary, drivers, guards, Secret Service, the domestic staff, and many friends and family members of both parties.", "(D) After his death, the number of Secret Service agents multiplied exponentially, meaning that the President was virtually never alone.", "(A) He has to invite his trusted friends and staffers for a getaway, not invite his wife, and ensure that the lady friend is on the guest list.", "(D) To have a conjoining room with an aid, have the woman go to the aid's room, then come through the conjoining door.  When the evening is over, she goes back the way she came.", "(A) about 15\n", "(B) The Washington Times is expressing great excitement about a new book written by a former FBI agent.\n", "(D) about 99"], "input": "The logistics of presidential adultery.\nThe Washington Times\ncould hardly contain its excitement: \"A former FBI agent assigned to the White\nHouse describes in a new book how President Clinton slips past his Secret\nService detail in the dead of night, hides under a blanket in the back of a\ndark-colored sedan, and trysts with a woman, possibly a celebrity, at the JW\nMarriott Hotel in downtown Washington.\" For Clinton-haters, Gary Aldrich's tale\nsounded too good to be true.\nAnd it was. The\nnot-so-Secret-Service agent's \"source\" turned out to be a thirdhand rumor\npassed on by Clinton scandalmonger David Brock. Those who know about White\nHouse security--Clinton staffers, the Secret Service, former aides to\nPresidents Reagan and Bush--demolished Aldrich's claims. Clinton couldn't give\nhis Secret Service agents the slip (they shadow him when he walks around the\nWhite House), couldn't arrange a private visit without tipping off hotel staff,\nand couldn't re-enter the White House without getting nabbed. (Guards check all\ncars at the gate--especially those that arrive at 4 a.m.)\nEven so,\nthe image resonates. For some Americans, it is an article of faith: Bill\nClinton cheated on his wife when he was governor, and he cheats on her as\npresident. But can he? Is it possible for the president of the United States to\ncommit adultery and get away with it? Maybe, but it's tougher than you\nthink.\nHistorically, presidential adultery is common. Warren\nHarding cavorted with Nan Britton and Carrie Phillips. Franklin Roosevelt\n\"entertained\" Lucy Rutherford at the White House when Eleanor was away. America\nwas none the wiser, even if White House reporters were.\nThose who\nknow Clinton is cheating often point to the model of John F. Kennedy,\nwho turned presidential hanky-panky into a science. Kennedy invited mistresses\nto the White House for afternoon (and evening, and overnight) liaisons. Kennedy\nseduced women on the White House staff (including, it seems, Jackie's own press\nsecretary). Kennedy made assignations outside the White House, then escaped his\nSecret Service detail by scaling walls and ducking out back doors. If Kennedy\ndid it, so can Clinton.\nWell, no. Though Clinton slavishly emulates JFK\nin every other way, he'd be a fool to steal Kennedy's MO d'amour . Here's\nwhy:\n1) Too many people would\nknow. Kennedy hardly bothered to hide his conquests. According to Kennedy\nmistress (and mob moll) Judith Campbell's autobiography, those who knew about\ntheir affair included: Kennedy's personal aides and secretary (who pandered for\nhim), White House drivers, White House gate guards, White House Secret Service\nagents, White House domestic staff, most of Campbell's friends, a lot of\nKennedy's friends, and several Kennedy family members. Such broad circulation\nwould be disastrous today because:\n2) The press would report\nit. Kennedy conducted his affairs brazenly because he trusted reporters not\nto write about them. White House journalists knew about, or at least strongly\nsuspected, Kennedy's infidelity, but never published a story about it. Ask Gary\nHart if reporters would exercise the same restraint today. Clinton must worry\nabout this more than most presidents. Not only are newspapers and magazines\nwilling to publish an adultery story about him, but many are pursuing\nit.\nFor the same reason, Clinton\nwould find it difficult to hire a mistress. A lovely young secretary would set\noff alarm bells in any reporter investigating presidential misbehavior. Says a\nformer Clinton aide, \"There has been a real tendency to have no good-looking\nwomen on the staff in order to protect him.\"\n3)\nClinton cannot avoid Secret Service protection. During the Kennedy era, the\nSecret Service employed fewer than 500 people and had an annual budget of about\n$4 million. Then came Lee Harvey Oswald, Squeaky Fromme, and John Hinckley. Now\nthe Secret Service payroll tops 4,500 (most of them agents), and the annual\nbudget exceeds $500 million (up 300 percent just since 1980). At any given\ntime, more than 100 agents guard the president in the White House. Top aides\nfrom recent administrations are adamant: The Secret Service never lets\nthe president escape its protection.\nSo what's a randy president to do? Any modern presidential\naffair would need to meet stringent demands. Only a tiny number of trusted\naides and Secret Service agents could know of it. They would need to maintain\ncomplete silence about it. And no reporters could catch wind of it. Such an\naffair is improbable, but--take heart, Clinton-haters--it's not impossible.\nBased on scuttlebutt and speculation from insiders at the Clinton, Bush,\nReagan, and Ford White Houses, here are the four likeliest scenarios for\npresidential adultery.\n1) The White House\nSneak. This is a discreet variation of the old Kennedy/Campbell liaison.\nIt's late at night. The president's personal aides have gone home. The family\nis away. He is alone in the private quarters. The private quarters, a k a \"the\nresidence,\" occupy the second and third floors of the White House. Secret\nService agents guard the residence's entrances on the first floor and ground\nfloors, but the first family has privacy in the quarters themselves. Maids and\nbutlers serve the family there, but the president and first lady ask them to\nleave when they want to be alone.\nThe president dials a\n\"friend\" on his private line. (Most presidents placed all their calls\nthrough the White House operators, who kept a record of each one; the Clintons\ninstalled a direct-dial line in the private quarters.) The president invites\nthe friend over for a cozy evening at the White House. After he hangs up with\nthe friend, he phones the guard at the East Executive Avenue gate and tells him\nto admit a visitor. He also notifies the Secret Service agent and the usher on\nduty downstairs that they should send her up to the residence.\nA taxi\ndrops the woman near the East gate. She identifies herself to the guard, who\nexamines her ID, runs her name through a computer (to check for outstanding\nwarrants), and logs her in a database. A White House usher escorts her into the\nEast Wing of the White House. They walk through the East Wing and pass the\nSecret Service guard post by the White House movie theater. The agent on duty\nwaves them on. The usher takes her to the private elevator, where another\nSecret Service agent is posted. She takes the elevator to the second floor. The\npresident opens the door and welcomes her. Under no circumstances could\nshe enter the living quarters without first encountering Secret Service\nagents.\nLet us pause for a moment to demolish two of\nthe splashier rumors about White House fornication. First, the residence is the\nonly place in the White House where the president can have safe (i.e.\nuninterrupted) sex. He can be intruded upon or observed everywhere\nelse--except, perhaps, the Oval Office bathroom. Unless the president is an\nexhibitionist or a lunatic, liaisons in the Oval Office, bowling alley, or East\nWing are unimaginable. Second, the much-touted tunnel between the White House\nand the Treasury Department is all-but-useless to the presidential adulterer.\nIt is too well-guarded. The president could smuggle a mistress through it, but\nit would attract far more attention from White House staff than a\nstraightforward gate entry would.\nMeanwhile, back in the private quarters, the president and friend get\ncomfortable in one of the 14 bedrooms (or, perhaps, the billiard room). After a\npleasant 15 minutes (or two hours?), she says goodbye. Depending on how long\nshe stays, she may pass a different shift of Secret Service agents as she\ndeparts. She exits the White House grounds, unescorted and unbothered, at the\nEast gate. The Risks : A gate guard, an usher, and a handful of Secret\nService agents see her. All of them have a very good idea of why she was there.\nThe White House maid who changes the sheets sees other suspicious evidence. And\nthe woman's--real--name is entered in a Secret Service computer. None of this\nendangers the president too much. The computer record of her visit is private,\nat least for several decades after he leaves office. No personal aides know\nabout the visit. Unless they were staking out the East gate, no journalists do\neither. The Secret Service agents, the guard, the steward, and the maid owe\ntheir jobs to their discretion. Leaks get them fired.\nThat said, the current president has every reason\nnot to trust his Secret Service detail. No one seriously compares Secret\nService agents (who are pros) to Arkansas state troopers (who aren't). But\nClinton might not trust any security guards after the beating he took from his\nArkansas posse. Also, if other Secret Service agents are anything like Aldrich,\nthey may dislike this president. One Secret Service leak--the lamp-throwing\nstory--already damaged Clinton. Agents could tattle again.\n2) The \"Off-the-Record\"\nVisit. Late at night, after his personal aides and the press have gone\nhome, the president tells his Secret Service detail that he needs to take an\n\"off-the-record\" trip. He wants to leave the White House without his motorcade\nand without informing the press. He requests two agents and an unobtrusive\nsedan. The Secret Service shift leader grumbles, but accepts the conditions.\nTheoretically, the president could refuse all Secret Service protection, but it\nwould be far more trouble than it's worth. He would have to inform the head of\nthe Secret Service and the secretary of the Treasury. The president and the two\nagents drive the unmarked car to a woman friend's house. Ideally, she has a\ncovered garage. (An apartment building or a hotel would raise considerably the\nrisk of getting caught.) The agents guard the outside of the house while the\npresident and his friend do their thing. Then the agents chauffeur the\npresident back to the White House, re-entering through the Southwest or\nSoutheast gate, away from the press station. The Risks : Only two Secret\nService agents and their immediate supervisor know about the visit. It is\nrecorded in the Secret Service log, which is not made public during the\nadministration's tenure. Gate guards may suspect something fishy when they see\nthe car. A reporter or passer-by could spy the president--even through tinted\nwindows--as the car enters and exits the White House. The friend's neighbors\nmight spot him, or they might notice the agents lurking outside her house. A\nneighbor might call the police to report the suspicious visitors. All in all, a\nrisky, though not unthinkable, venture.\n3. The Camp David\nAssignation. A bucolic, safer version of the White House Sneak. The\npresident invites a group of friends and staffers--including his paramour but\nnot his wife--to spend the weekend at Camp David. The girlfriend is assigned\nthe cabin next to the president's lodge. Late at night, after the Hearts game\nhas ended and everyone has retired to their cabins, she strolls next door.\nThere is a Secret Service command post outside the cabin. The agents on duty\n(probably three of them) let her enter. A few hours later, she slips back to\nher own cabin. The Risks : Only a few Secret Service agents know about\nthe liaison. Even though the guest list is not public, all the Navy and Marine\npersonnel at Camp David, as well as the other guests, would know that the\npresidential entourage included an attractive woman, but not the first lady.\nThat would raise eyebrows if it got back to the White House press room.\n4. The Hotel Shuffle.\nThe cleverest strategy, and the only one that cuts out the Secret Service. The\npresident is traveling without his family. The Secret Service secures an entire\nhotel floor, reserving elevators and guarding the entrance to the president's\nsuite. The president's personal aide (a man in his late 20s) takes the room\nadjoining the president's. An internal door connects the two rooms, so the aide\ncan enter the president's room without alerting the agents in the hall. This is\nstandard practice.\nLate in the evening, the aide\nescorts a comely young woman back to the hotel. The Secret Service checks her,\nthen waves her into the aide's room. She emerges three hours later, slightly\ndisheveled. She kisses the aide in the hall as she leaves. Someone got\nlucky--but who? The Risks : The posted Secret Service agents might see\nthrough the charade. More awkwardly, the aide would be forced to play the seamy\nrole of procurer. (He would probably do it. Kennedy's assistants performed this\ntask dutifully.)\nIn short, presidential\nadultery is just barely possible in 1996. But it would be extremely\ninconvenient, extremely risky, and potentially disastrous. It seems, in fact, a\nlot more trouble than it's worth. A president these days might be wiser to\nimitate Jimmy Carter, not Jack Kennedy, and only lust in his heart.\n", "source": "quality_raw", "evaluation": "exam"}
{"instructions": ["The author of this piece seems to feel that blame befalls many people involved in this scandal because\n\n (A) Even though they did not seem to be directly involved or cause problems because they did not quit their jobs on principle, they were at fault.\n (B) They were not loyal to Clinton, and because he was the president, it was everyone's ultimate duty to remain loyal to him.\n (C) They did not alert the media soon enough.\n (D) They all knew what was going on, and they did not tell Hillary.", "According to the author, does the public received any blame for these events?  Why or why not?\n\n (A) No, they had called to have Clinton impeached for his indiscretions, so they did more than they needed in order to show their disapproval for his actions.\n (B) Yes, because they pretend to despise White House scandals such as this, yet, they could not get enough of it.\n (C) No, how can they be held accountable for something that two consenting adults participate in?\n (D) Yes, because they were obsessed with this issue, innocent people were hurt.", "The information presented shows that the person who was the most innocent involved in this scandal to be\n\n (A) Linda Tripp\n (B) Hillary\n (C) Monica\n (D) Chelsea", "Why was Hillary faulted in this scandal?\n\n (A) She did not do enough to protect her daughter from what happened.\n (B) She spoke out against her husband, and no one should speak out against our President regardless.\n (C) She and Bill have an open relationship, and she is involved with a woman.\n (D) She stood by him even though she knew he was guilty of the affair.", "What is one of Jessie Jackson's \"minuses\" in relation to this issue?\n\n (A) He did not rebuke Clinton for his actions.\n (B) He used his time as pastoral counsel for Clinton to gain media attention.\n (C) He does not meet with Monica.\n (D) He was not really there for Clinton in his time of spiritual need.", "What are the general trends in the listing order of individuals/groups ranked in this article?\n\n (A) Individuals/groups were usually ranked from least prominent to most prominent.\n (B) Individuals/groups were usually ranked from most liked to least liked.\n (C) Individuals/groups were usually ranked from least liked to most liked.\n (D) Individuals/groups were usually ranked from most prominent to least prominent.", "How does Slate morally consider the implications of being loyal or unloyal to Clinton in the scandal?\n\n (A) It's consistently seen as a bad thing.\n (B) It's consistently seen as a good thing.\n (C) Loyalty or lack thereof isn't referenced enough within the article to make any generalizations.\n (D) Loyalty or lack thereof can be seen as a plus or minus depending on the context.", "Off the following options, which best summarizes this article?\n\n (A) Slate attempts to consider how Monica Lewinsky, specifically, was disproportionately shamed compared to others involved in the unravelling of the scandal.\n (B) Slate attempts to dig through the scandal and address information that was not previously considered.\n (C) Slate attempts to address the various ways in which the public views those involved in the scandal, and speculates upon whether those views are accurate.\n (D) Slate attempts to prove that Bill Clinton, specifically, was disproportionately shamed compared to others involved in the unravelling of the scandal.", "Within the article, which of the following is NOT a minus that's listed in the ratings?\n\n (A) Wrote two memoirs for profit as a result of the scandal.\n (B) Failed to investigate Clinton's refutation of the scandal.\n (C) Used the scandal as leverage to attempt impeachment.\n (D) Discussed the scandal with others.", "How would you compare and contrast the overall assessments of Hillary Clinton and Chelsea Clinton?\n\n (A) Neither of them were severely harmed by Bill Clinton's actions, and they were equally treated with mild amounts of sympathy.\n (B) Both of them were viewed with some sympathy, but Chelsea was deemed more deserving of sympathy because Hillary was somewhat complicit.\n (C) Chelsea Clinton had more of a choice to remove herself from the limelight because she was just the daughter.\n (D) Both were clearly harmed by Bill Clinton's actions, and they were equally treated with sympathy.", "According to Slate's ratings, which of the orderings below correctly goes from most reprehensible to least reprehensible?\n\n (A) Bob Barr, James Carville, Lanny Davis, Erskine Bowles\n (B) James Carville, Lanny Davis, Bob Barr, Erskine Bowles\n (C) Lanny Davis, Bob Barr, James Carville, Erskine Bowles\n (D) Bob Barr, Erskine Bowles, James Carville, Lanny Davis"], "outputs": ["(A) Even though they did not seem to be directly involved or cause problems because they did not quit their jobs on principle, they were at fault.", "(B) Yes, because they pretend to despise White House scandals such as this, yet, they could not get enough of it.", "(D) Chelsea", "(D) She stood by him even though she knew he was guilty of the affair.", "(B) He used his time as pastoral counsel for Clinton to gain media attention.", "(C) Individuals/groups were usually ranked from least liked to most liked.", "(B) It's consistently seen as a good thing.", "(C) Slate attempts to address the various ways in which the public views those involved in the scandal, and speculates upon whether those views are accurate.", "(A) Wrote two memoirs for profit as a result of the scandal.", "(B) Both of them were viewed with some sympathy, but Chelsea was deemed more deserving of sympathy because Hillary was somewhat complicit.", "(B) James Carville, Lanny Davis, Bob Barr, Erskine Bowles"], "input": "The Flytrap Blame Game\nOne of the few truths\nuniversally acknowledged about Flytrap is that presidential secretary Betty\nCurrie deserves our sympathy: an honest, loyal civil servant dragooned into a\nscandal she had nothing to do with.\nBut does Currie deserve such\nsanctification? After all, she knew Clinton's history when she took her job\nthen enabled Clinton's sleaziness anyway. She stood by while Clinton cuckolded\nhis wife and perhaps even helped him commit obstruction of justice. And did she\nprotest? Not as far as we have heard. Did she quit on principle? No. Currie may\nnot be Flytrap's chief malefactor, but nor is she the saintly innocent that the\nAmerican public believes her to be.\nThe\nCurrie case suggests that Flytrap needs a moral recalibration.\nMonica Lewinsky, for example, has fantastically low\napproval ratings, much lower than Clinton's. One poll I saw pegged her\nfavorability rating at 5 percent (even Newt Gingrich manages at least 25\npercent). Now, Monica certainly isn't the heroine of Flytrap. She did seduce a\nmarried man, damage the presidency for the sake of casual sex, lie frequently\nand insouciantly, and blab her \"secret\" affair to anyone who'd listen. But she\nwas also sexually exploited by her older, sleazy boss; had her reputation\nsmeared by Clinton's lackeys; and was betrayed by her \"friend\" Linda Tripp. She\nhardly deserves such universal contempt.\nOthers besides Currie have\nbenefited from the public's excessive generosity. George Stephanopoulos has\nbecome a white knight of Flytrap, the former Clinton aide who had the courage\nto turn on his boss. And bravo to George for chastising Clinton! But it smacks\nof hypocrisy for Stephanopoulos to \"discover\" in 1998 that Clinton is a lying,\nwomanizing dog. He has, after all known this since 1992. Back then\nStephanopoulos himself helped quell bimbo eruptions and parroted Clinton's\nlying denials. He has never shouldered blame for those deceptions. (Mickey Kaus\nfirst noted Stephanopoulos' unbearable sanctimony in this \"Chatterbox\" item in January.) And while loyalty isn't a universal\ngood, it was opportunistic for Stephanopoulos to betray Clinton just at the\nmoment Clinton's stock was about to plunge.\n(Sometimes, of course, the public's rating is dead on target. Linda Tripp's\nallies--a group that includes her lawyers, Kenneth Starr, the Goldberg family,\nand absolutely no one else as far as I can tell--have tried repeatedly to\nimprove her sorry public image. Jonah Goldberg tried right here in Slate. No sale.)\nBelow is\nSlate\n's entire\nscorecard, which ranks 31 of Flytrap's key players: The scale runs from -10 to\n+10. Anything less than zero means the player is a net miscreant. Anything\nabove zero rates a sympathy card. (This is not, of course, an exact science.\nHow, for example, do we judge Ann Lewis compared to other last ditch Clinton\ndefenders? Lewis is said to be more outraged by Clinton's misbehavior than The\nGuys in the White House. Yet Lewis didn't quit in disgust. Is her outrage a\nplus or a minus if she doesn't act on it? You decide.)\nThe\nScorecard\nBill\nClinton (The public's rating: -6 )\nMinuses:\nTo recapitulate\na) Had an adulterous affair\nwith a young intern.\nb) Lied about it to\neveryone .\nc) Probably perjured\nhimself.\nd) Perhaps obstructed\njustice.\ne) Entangled allies and aides\nin his web of deceit.\nf) Humiliated his wife and\ndaughter.\ng) Did not have the grace to\napologize to Lewinsky.\nh)Tried to shift the blame\nfor his failures onto his accusers.\nPluses:\na) Had his private life\nexposed to the world in a way no one's should be.\nb) Has\nbeen persecuted by enemies who won't be satisfied until he is destroyed.\nSlate\nrating-- He never asked for our sympathy, and he doesn't deserve it:\n-9\nDick\nMorris (The public's rating: -6 )\nMinuses:\na) Encouraged Clinton's most\ndeplorable habits: lying and polling. (When Clinton revealed his adultery to\nMorris, the political consultant immediately took a poll to see how America\nwould respond to a Clinton admission. When the results suggested Americans\nwould be angry if Clinton had perjured himself, Morris encouraged Clinton to\ndeny the affair.)\nb) Further sullied the\nClintons with a revolting comment suggesting that Clinton cheats because\nHillary is a lesbian.\nc) Not even loyal enough to\nkeep his mouth shut.\nPluses: I cannot think of\nany.\nSlate\nrating: -7\nLinda\nTripp (The public's rating: -7 )\nMinuses:\na) Betrayed her\n\"friend.\"\nb) Obsessively nosed into\nthe private lives of others.\nc) Tried to score a book\ndeal off sex gossip and other people's distress.\nd) Tattletale.\nPluses:\na) Whistleblower (see d\nunder Minuses): risked humiliation to expose something she believed was\nwrong.\nb)\nSmeared mercilessly by Clinton allies, the media.\nSlate\nrating: -7\nJames\nCarville (The public's rating: -1 )\nMinuses:\na) Has known about Clinton's\nwoman problem since 1992.\nb) Happily parroted\nClinton's denial despite knowing that Clinton was a deceitful womanizer.\nc) Has not expressed the\nslightest chagrin or disappointment since Clinton's apology.\nd) Has not retreated from\nvicious attacks on Starr, despite evidence of Clinton's lies.\nPluses:\na) Perfectly loyal.\nb)\nConsistent in attacks against Starr.\nSlate\nrating: -5\nBruce\nLindsey (The public's rating : To be determined )\nMinuses:\na) Not yet known what he did\nto protect Clinton from the Lewinsky affair. Early signs suggest he knew a lot\nand helped clean it up.\nPluses:\na) Unquestionably loyal to\nhis boss.\nb)\nSilent.\nSlate\nrating-- Not enough information to make a clean guess: Approx -5\nVernon\nJordan (The public's rating: +3 )\nMinuses:\na) May have known and must\nhave suspected that Lewinsky was a mistress (given that he and Clinton are\nconfidants, it's hard to believe that Jordan was totally in the dark about\nher).\nb) Protected too readily by\nWashington establishment.\nPluses:\na) May\nhave helped Lewinsky simply because he's bighearted and generous not because\nshe was the president's lover.\nSlate\nrating: -4\nSidney\nBlumenthal (The public's rating: -3 )\nMinuses:\na) Spun the president's\ndenial for months without bothering to check if it was true.\nb) Pushed for Clinton to be\naggressive rather than contrite during his speech.\nc) Trumpeted Clinton's\ndenial but has not expressed chagrin now that Clinton has admitted his\nlies.\nPluses:\na) Consistent in belief that\nStarr is an ideologue and that the sex charges are political.\nb)\nLoyal.\nSlate\nrating: -3\nLanny\nDavis (The public's rating: -1 )\nMinuses:\na) Spun the president's\ndenial for months without bothering to check if it was true.\nb) Said for seven months\nthat we'd have to \"wait and see.\" Then, when Clinton finally admitted his lies,\nDavis was hardly embarrassed or critical of the president.\nPluses:\na)\nLoyalty to old boss.\nSlate\nrating: -3\nGeorge\nStephanopoulos (The public's rating: +4 )\nMinuses:\na) Hypocritical for him to\n\"discover\" in 1998 that Clinton is a lying dog. After all, he knew that Clinton\nwas a lech in 1992 and helped cover it up. Yet he has never shouldered\nresponsibility for the lies Clinton told then.\nb) Disloyal to turn on old\nboss as viciously as he has in past few weeks.\nPluses:\na) Had courage to turn on old\nboss and criticize his moral lapses.\nb) Urged\nClinton to be fully contrite.\nSlate\nrating: -2\nBetty\nCurrie (The public's rating: +8 )\nMinuses:\na) Abetted adulterous\naffair.\nb) May have abetted\nobstruction of justice.\nc) Knew what she was getting\ninto when she took the job so can't be excused on grounds of naivet\u00e9.\nd) Did not quit on\nprinciple.\nPluses:\na) Reputation for\nhonesty.\nb)\nProbably dragooned into cover-up against her will.\nSlate\nrating: -2\nPaul\nBegala (The public's rating: 0 )\nMinuses:\na) Spun the president's\ndenial for months without bothering to check if it was true.\nb) Did not quit on principle\nafter Clinton admitted lies.\nPluses:\na) Urged president to be\ncontrite and wrote excellent, sufficiently apologetic speech.\nb)\nLoyal.\nSlate\nrating: -2\nRahm\nEmanuel (The public's rating: -1 )\nMinuses and\nPluses:\nSame as\nBegala (except Emanuel didn't write the speech).\nSlate\nrating: -2\nAnn\nLewis (The public's rating: -1 )\nMinuses and\nPluses:\nSame as\nEmanuel, except Lewis seems more morally outraged with Clinton than other White\nHouse aides.\nSlate\nrating: -2\nMonica\nLewinsky (The public's rating: -9 )\nMinuses:\na) Seduced a married man.\nb) Damaged and endangered the\npresidency for the sake of casual sex.\nc) Has lied frequently.\nd) Is a capable adult,\nnot--as her advocates claim--a naive child, defenseless against the president's\nwiles.\ne) Protected herself with\nimmunity when she needed to, even though her testimony would do enormous harm\nto Clinton and the nation.\nf) Blabbed her \"secret\"\naffair to lots of people. (So, while she was dragged into the scandal against\nher will, it was her own loquaciousness that made the dragging possible.)\nPluses:\na) Sexually exploited by her\nolder boss.\nb) Had her reputation smeared\nby Clintonistas and the media.\nc) Betrayed by Linda\nTripp.\nd) Dragged\ninto the scandal against her will.\nSlate\nrating: -2\nMike\nMcCurry (The public's rating: +2 )\nMinuses:\na) Spun and spun and spun the\npresident's denial for months without bothering to check if it was true.\nPluses:\na) Was clearly dismayed by\nthe entire scandal and his role in it.\nb) Is quitting the\nadministration (though not, apparently, on principle).\nc)\nLoyal.\nSlate\nrating: -1\nDavid\nKendall (The public's rating: 0 )\nMinuses:\na) Relied on iffy legalisms\nto help Clinton escape trouble.\nPluses:\na) Relying on iffy legalisms\nto help Clinton escape trouble is his job. He's a lawyer.\nb)\nAdmirably reticent, compared to Robert Bennett.\nSlate\nrating: -1\nThe Rev.\nJesse Jackson (The public's rating: +2 )\nMinuses:\na) Revealed Clinton family\ntroubles immediately after his pastoral visit.\nb) Parlayed pastoral visit\ninto a week of self-promotion.\nPluses:\na) Graciously counseled a\npolitical rival in time of need.\nb) Did\nnot demand any political compensation in exchange.\nSlate\nrating: -1\nRep. Bob\nBarr, R-Ga. (The public's rating: -5 )\nMinuses:\na) Unapologetically vicious,\npartisan, and unforgiving in his impeachment quest.\nPluses:\na)\nConsistent throughout the scandal: He has been pushing impeachment since before\nMonica materialized in January.\nSlate\nrating: 0\nKenneth\nStarr (The public's rating: -9 )\nMinuses:\na) Seems merciless toward\nClinton.\nb) Has pursued investigation\ninto Clinton's private life with more zeal than seems appropriate.\nc) Is too willing to provoke\nconstitutional standoffs for the sake of his investigation, seems indifferent\nto the dignity of the presidency.\nPluses:\na) Was right about Clinton\nand Lewinsky.\nb) Is compelled by law to\ninvestigate diligently and forcefully.\nc) Has\nbeen patient with the stonewalling, deceiving Clinton.\nSlate\nrating: +1\nPaula\nJones (The public's rating: -5 )\nMinuses:\na) Brought a legally dubious,\ngold-digging lawsuit.\nb) Resisted a settlement that\nwould have saved the nation much embarrassment.\nc) Happily became a tool for\nClinton's enemies.\nPluses:\na) Is vindicated because\nClinton probably did it.\nb) Forced Clinton's lechery\nout in the open.\nc)\nPersisted in the face of ridicule and humiliation.\nSlate\nrating: +1\nThe\nAmerican People (The public's rating: +7 )\nMinuses:\na) Hypocritically claim to\ndespise scandal, follow it breathlessly, then blame the media for obsessing\nover it.\nb) Are secretly fascinated\nby the sleaziness of it.\nPluses:\na)\nMagnanimous toward the president.\nSlate\nrating: +1\nThe\nMedia (The public's rating: -8 )\nMinuses:\na) No sense of\nproportionality. Coverage is wretchedly excessive even when it shouldn't\nbe.\nb) Endlessly self-involved.\nHow many stories have you seen about the media and the scandal?\nc) Unforgiving. The media\nwant the scandal to continue, hence won't ever be satisfied that Clinton has\nsuffered enough.\nPluses:\na) Worked hard to break a\nvery important story and investigated the hell out of it.\nb)\nUnfairly savaged by hypocritical American people (see above).\nSlate\nrating: +1\nLeon\nPanetta (The public's rating: +1 )\nMinuses:\na) Slightly disloyal to old\nboss.\nb) May have known about\nClinton's extracurricular activities, yet turned a blind eye.\nc) On television too\nmuch.\nPluses:\na) Urged Clinton early on to\ncome clean.\nb) Had\ngood sense to leave the White House before corrupting himself.\nSlate\nrating: +1\nHillary\nClinton (The public's rating: +4 )\nMinuses:\na) Knew what a lech he was,\nyet always protected him.\nb) May have always known\ntruth about Lewinsky, yet still lied to protect Bill.\nc) Chose aggressive,\npolitical strategy over contrition.\nPluses:\na) Lied to, betrayed, and\ncuckolded by husband.\nb) Personally humiliated.\nc) May\nhave disgraced her own good name by echoing his denials on the Today\nshow.\nSlate\nrating-- She made a Faustian bargain, but you still feel sorry for Faust:\n+2\nAl\nGore (The public's rating: +3 )\nMinuses:\na) Did not (apparently) urge\nthe president to come clean with American people.\nPluses:\na) Stayed loyal.\nb) Did\nnot take advantage of scandal to burnish his own image.\nSlate\nrating: +2\nKathleen\nWilley (The public's rating: 0 )\nMinuses:\na) Was in it for the money\n(told her story partly in order to land a book contract).\nPluses:\na) Seems to have told story\nhonestly and forthrightly.\nb) Reluctantly dragged into\nscandal.\nc) Was\nvictimized by Clinton.\nSlate\nrating: +2\nThe\nClinton Cabinet (The public's rating: +2 )\nMinuses:\na) Spun his denials without\ndigging for the truth.\nb) Did not quit on\nprinciple.\nPluses:\na) Were conscripted\nunwillingly into scandal defense. (Unlike political aides such as Begala, who\nare expected to do political dirty work, the Cabinet members are public\nservants who should be kept away from such sleaze.)\nb) Were lied to by\nClinton.\nc)\nLoyal.\nSlate\nrating: +3\nErskine\nBowles (The public's rating: Doesn't care )\nMinuses:\na) Refused to involve himself\nin the critical issue of the presidency.\nb) Stood aside while White\nHouse was shanghaied by lawyers.\nPluses:\na) Stayed utterly silent\nabout the scandal, clearly disgusted by it all.\nb) Kept the rest of the\nadministration focused on policy, thus preventing total executive\nparalysis.\nc) Did not\nlie or spin for the president.\nSlate\nrating: +4\nRep.\nHenry Hyde, R-Ill. (The public's rating: +4 )\nMinuses:\nThere are none yet.\nPluses:\na)\n(Mostly) kept his mouth shut and prevented the House Judiciary Committee from\njumping the gun on impeachment.\nSlate\nrating: +4\nSecret\nService (The public's rating: +8 )\nMinuses:\na) Fought Starr subpoena too\nhard because it considers itself the Praetorian Guard.\nPluses:\na) Dragged unwillingly into\nscandal by Clinton (unlike Currie or his political aides, the Secret Service\nagents have no choice about being near the president).\nb) Testified honestly but\nunwillingly, as they should.\nc) Did\nnot leak.\nSlate\nrating: +5\nChelsea\nClinton (The public's rating: +10 )\nMinuses:\nThere are none.\nPluses:\na) Humiliated and\nembarrassed by her father's misbehavior.\nb) Had family problems\nparaded before the world in a way they should not be.\nc) Has been endlessly\npsychologized by the media.\nd) Had\nher summer vacation ruined.\nSlate\nrating: +10\nMore Flytrap\n...\n", "source": "quality_raw", "evaluation": "exam"}
{"instructions": ["Why does the Officer deliver his message so carefully to Kirk?\n\n (A) He can hardly control contain his anger for what Pa did\n (B) He needs to maintain control over the relationship with the Hans\n (C) He killed Pa in a case of mistaken identity\n (D) He was good friends with Kirk\u2019s father", "What do the Piruts want with the Ship?\n\n (A) To overtake it with the Hans\n (B) The same thing the Hans want with it\n (C) To kidnap the yellow daughter from it\n (D) They are not interested in the Ship, only raiding the Hans", "What is the most powerful weapon any of the characters in the story have for combat?\n\n (A) Hunting rifles\n (B) Cannons\n (C) Hand-thrown implements\n (D) Catapults", "What did Kirk think happened to his father after the message from the Officer?\n\n (A) Pa had turned on the Hans and led the Piruts straight to the pillboxes\n (B) Pa was running to safety and was then killed to spare the rest of the people on the plain\n (C) Pa had invaded the Ship and was killed as discipline\n (D) Pa had double crossed the Officer", "Why might one not want to live in the universe in which this story takes place?\n\n (A) Kids at Kirk's age are routinely hazed and attacked\n (B) Mothers have to support the family through drastic measures\n (C) Survival itself is difficult\n (D) The individuals in the community are not accepting of others", "Is Kirk's friend actually dangerous to the community?\n\n (A) Yes, he hated most people in the community\n (B) No, he just opposed the current leader\n (C) No, he just wanted to point out injustice\n (D) Yes, he was planning on inciting violence", "Is Kirk a model citizen?\n\n (A) No, he hated the systems enforced by his community.\n (B) Yes, he followed all the rules set out by the Officers.\n (C) No, he wanted to kill the leader's son.\n (D) Yes, he was kind to his family and friends.", "Of the following options, what best summarizes this story?\n\n (A) A boy has to prevent his friend from getting himself in danger.\n (B) A boy realizes the full extent to which his community supports him.\n (C) A boy has to protect his whole family indefinitely.\n (D) A boy realizes the full extent to which his community oppresses him."], "outputs": ["(B) He needs to maintain control over the relationship with the Hans", "(B) The same thing the Hans want with it", "(C) Hand-thrown implements", "(B) Pa was running to safety and was then killed to spare the rest of the people on the plain", "(C) Survival itself is difficult", "(C) No, he just wanted to point out injustice", "(A) No, he hated the systems enforced by his community.", "(D) A boy realizes the full extent to which his community oppresses him."], "input": "THRALLS of the ENDLESS NIGHT \n\n   By LEIGH BRACKETT \n\n   The Ship held an ancient secret that meant    life to the dying cast-aways of the void.    Then Wes Kirk revealed the secret to his    people's enemies\u2014and found that his betrayal    meant the death of the girl he loved. \n\n   Wes Kirk shut his teeth together, hard. He turned his back on Ma Kirk\n and the five younger ones huddled around the box of heat-stones and\n went to the doorway, padding soft and tight with the anger in him. \n\n   He shoved the curtain of little skins aside and crouched there with his\n thick shoulders fitted into the angle of the jamb, staring out, cold\n wind threading in across his splayed and naked feet. \n\n   The hackles rose golden and stiff across Kirk's back. He said carefully, \n\n   \"I would like to kill the Captain and the First Officer and the Second\n Officer and all the little Officers, and the Engineers, and all their\n families.\" \n\n   His voice carried inside on the wind eddies. Ma Kirk yelled, \n\n   \"Wes! You come here and let that curtain down! You want us all to\n freeze?\" Her dark-furred shoulders moved rhythmically over the rocking\n child. She added sharply, \"Besides, that's fool's talk, Jakk Randl's\n talk, and only gets the sucking-plant.\" \n\n   \"Who's to hear it?\" Kirk raised his heavy overlids and let his pupils\n widen, huge liquid drops spreading black across his eyeballs, sucking\n the dim grey light into themselves, forcing line and shape out of\n blurred nothingness. He made no move to drop the curtain. \n\n   The same landscape he had stared at since he was able to crawl by\n himself away from the box of heat-stones. Flat grey plain running\n right and left to the little curve of the horizon. Rocks on it, and\n edible moss. Wind-made gullies with grey shrubs thick in their bottoms,\n guarding their sour white berries with thorns and sacs of poisoned dust\n that burst when touched. \n\n   Between the fields and the gullies there were huts like his own, sunk\n into the earth and sodded tight. A lot of huts, but not as many as\n there had been, the old ones said. The Hans died, and the huts were\n empty, and the wind and the earth took them back again. \n\n   Kirk raised his shaggy head. The light of the yellow star they called\n Sun caught in the huge luminous blackness of his eyes. \n\n   Beyond the Hansquarter, just where the flat plain began to rise, were\n the Engineers. Not many of them any more. You could see the dusty lumps\n where the huts had been, the tumbled heaps of metal that might have\n meant something once, a longer time ago than anyone could remember. But\n there were still plenty of huts standing. Two hands and one hand and\n a thumb of them, full of Engineers who said how the furrows should be\n laid for the planting but did nothing about the tilling of them. \n\n   And beyond the Engineers\u2014the Officers. \n\n   The baby cried. Ma Kirk shrilled at her son, and two of the younger\n ones fought over a bone with no meat on it, rolling and snapping on the\n dirt floor. Kirk shifted his head forward to shut out the sound of them\n and followed the line of the plain upward with sullen, glowing eyes. \n\n   The huts of the Engineers were larger than those in the Hansquarter.\n The huts of the Officers were not much larger than the Engineers', but\n there were more of them and they climbed higher up the grey slope.\n Five, nearly six hands of them, with the Captain's metal-roofed place\n highest of all. \n\n   Highest and nearest, right under the titanic shape lifting jagged\n against the icy stars from the crest of the ridge. \n\n   The Ship. \n\n   Kirk's voice was soft in his thick throat. \"I would like to kill them,\"\n he said. \"I would like to kill them all.\" \n\n   \"Yah!\" cried a shrill voice over his shoulder. \"All but the Captain's\n yellow daughter!\"  \n   Kirk spun angrily around. Lil, next below himself, danced back out of\n reach, her kilt of little skins flying around her thin hips. \n\n   \"Yah!\" she said again, and wrinkled her flat nose. \"I've seen you\n looking at her. All yellow from head to foot and beautiful pink lids to\n her eyes. You wouldn't kill     her    , I bet!\" \n\n   \"I bet I'll half kill you if you don't shut up!\" \n\n   Lil stuck out her tongue. Kirk aimed a cuff at her. She danced behind\n his arm and jerked the curtain down and shot away again, making two\n jumps over the brawling young ones and the box of heat-stones. \n\n   She squatted demurely beside Ma Kirk and said, as though nothing had\n happened, \"Ma says will you please not let so much heat out.\" \n\n   Kirk didn't say anything. He started to walk around the heat box. Lil\n yelled, \"Ma!\" \n\n   The young ones stopped fighting, scuttling out of reach and watching\n with bright moist eyes, grinning. The baby had reached the hiccoughing\n stage. \n\n   Ma Kirk said, \"Sit down, or go pick on somebody your own size.\" \n\n   Kirk stopped. \"Aw, I wasn't going to hurt her. She has to be so smart!\"\n He leaned forward to glare at Lil. \"And I would so kill the Captain's\n daughter!\" \n\n   The baby was quiet. Ma Kirk laid it down in a nest of skins put close\n to the heat and said wearily: \n\n   \"You men, always talking about killing! Haven't we enough trouble\n without that?\" \n\n   Kirk looked at the little box of heat-stones, his pupils shrinking. \n\n   \"Maybe there'd be less trouble for us.\" \n\n   Lil poked her shock of black hair around Ma Kirk's knee. Her big eyes\n glowed in the feeble light. \n\n   She said, \"You men! He's no man, Ma. He's just a little boy who has to\n stay behind and shoo the beetles out of the fields.\" \n\n   The young ones giggled, well out of reach. Lil's thin body was strung\n tight, quivering to move. \"Besides,\" she demanded, \"what have the\n Officers and the Engineers ever done to you that you should want to\n kill them\u2014all but the Captain's yellow daughter?\" \n\n   Kirk's big heavy chest swelled. \"Ma,\" he said, \"you make that brat shut\n up or I'll whale her, anyhow.\" \n\n   Ma Kirk looked at him. \"Your Pa's still big enough to whale you, young\n man! Now you stop it, both of you.\" \n\n   \"All right,\" said Kirk sullenly. He squatted down, holding his hands\n over the heat. His back twitched with the cold, but it was nice to have\n his belly warm, even if it was empty. \"Wish Pa'd hurry up. I'm hungry.\n Hope they killed meat.\" \n\n   Ma Kirk sighed. \"Seems like meat gets scarcer all the time, like the\n heat-stones.\" \n\n   \"Maybe,\" said Kirk heavily, \"it all goes to the same place.\" \n\n   Lil snorted. \"And where's that, Smarty?\" \n\n   His anger forced out the forbidden words. \n\n   \"Where everybody says, stupid! Into the Ship.\" \n\n   There was suddenly a lot of silence in the room. The word \"Ship\" hung\n there, awesome and accusing. Ma Kirk's eyes flicked to the curtain over\n the door and back to her son. \n\n   \"Don't you say things like that, Wes! You don't know.\" \n\n   \"It's what everybody says. Why else would they guard the Ship the way\n they do? We can't even get near the outside of it.\" \n\n   Lil tossed her head. \"Well neither do they.\" \n\n   \"Not when we can see 'em, no. Of course not. But how do we know they\n haven't got ways of getting into the Ship that don't show from the\n plain? Jakk says a lot goes on that we don't know about.\" \n\n   He got up, forcing his belief at them with his big square hands. \n\n   \"There must be something in the Ship that they don't want us to have.\n Something valuable, something they want to keep for themselves. What\n else could it be but heat-stones and maybe dried meat?\" \n\n   \"We don't know, Wes! The Ship is\u2014well, we shouldn't talk about it.\n And the Officers wouldn't do that. If they wanted us killed off they'd\n let the Piruts in on us, or the shags, and let 'em finish us quick.\n Freezing and starving would take too long. There'd be too many of us if\n we found out, or got mad.\" \n\n   Kirk snorted. \"You women know so much. If they let the shags or the\n Piruts in on us, how could they stop 'em before they killed everybody,\n including the Officers? As for slow death\u2014well, they think we're dumb.\n They've kept us away from the Ship ever since the     Crash    , and nobody\n knows how long ago that was. They think they can go on doing it. They\n think we'd never suspect.\" \n\n   \"Yah!\" said Lil sharply. \"You just like to talk. Why should the\n Officers want us killed off anyhow?\" \n\n   Kirk looked at the thin fuzzy baby curled tight in the skins. \n\n   \"There aren't enough heat-stones to go around any more. Why should they\n let their young ones cry with the cold?\"  \n   There was silence in the room again. Kirk felt it, thick and choky.\n His heart kicked against his ribs. He was scared, suddenly. He'd never\n talked that much before. It was the baby, crying in the cold, that set\n him off. Suppose someone had heard him. Suppose he was reported for a\n mutineer. That meant the sucking-plant.... \n\n   \"Listen!\" said Ma Kirk. \n\n   Nerves crackled icily all over Kirk's skin. But there wasn't any need\n to listen. The noise rolled in over them. It hit rock faces polished by\n the wind, and the drifts of crystalline pebbles, and it splintered into\n a tangle of echoes that came from everywhere at once, but there was\n no mistaking it. No need even to use sensitive earcups to locate its\n source. \n\n   The great alarm gong by the Captain's hut. \n\n   Kirk began to move, very swiftly and quietly. Before the third gong\n stroke hit them he had his spear and his sling and was already lifting\n aside the door curtain. \n\n   Ma Kirk said stiffly, \"Which way are they coming?\" \n\n   Kirk's ears twitched. He sorted the gong sounds, and the wind, and\n found a whisper underneath them, rushing up out of the gullied plain. \n\n   Kirk pointed. \"From the west. Piruts, I think.\" \n\n   Ma Kirk sucked in her breath. Her voice had no tone in it. \"Your Pa\n went hunting that way.\" \n\n   \"Yeah,\" said Kirk. \"I'll watch out for him.\" \n\n   He glanced back just before he let the curtain drop. The pale glow of\n the heat-stones picked dots of luminous blackness out of the gloom,\n where the still breathless faces were, watching him. He saw the blurred\n shapes of clay cooking pots, of low bed frames, of huddled bodies. The\n baby began to whimper again. \n\n   Kirk shivered in the cold wind. \"Lil,\" he said. \"I would, too, kill the\n Captain's yellow daughter.\" \n\n   \"Yah,\" said Lil. \"Go chase the beetles away.\" \n\n   There was no conviction in her voice. The wind was freezing on Kirk's\n bare feet. He dropped the curtain and went across the plain. \n\n   Men and youths like himself, old enough to fight, were spilling out of\n low doorways and forming companies on the flat ground. Kirk spotted\n Jakk Randl and fell in beside him. They stood with their backs to the\n wind, stamping and shivering, their head-hair and scant fur clouts\n blown straight out. \n\n   Randl nudged Kirk's elbow. \"Look at 'em,\" he said, and coughed. He was\n always coughing, jerking his thin sharp face back and forth. Kirk could\n have broken his brittle light-furred body in two. All Randl's strength\n was in his eyes. The pupils were always spread, always hot with some\n bitter force, always probing. He wasn't much older than Kirk. \n\n   Kirk looked up the hill. Officers were running from the huts below the\n gaunt, dead Ship. They didn't look so different from the Hans, only\n they were built a little taller and lighter, less bowed and bunchy in\n the shoulders, quicker on their feet. \n\n   Kirk stepped behind Randl to shield him from the wind. His voice was\n only a whisper, but it had a hard edge. The baby's thin, terrible wail\n was still in his ears. \n\n   \"Is it true, Jakk? Do you know? Because if they are....\" \n\n   Randl laughed and shuddered with a secret, ugly triumph. \"I crawled up\n on the peak during the last darkness. The guards were cold and the wind\n made them blind and deaf. I lay in the rocks and watched. And I saw....\" \n\n   He coughed. The Officers' voices rang sharp through the wind. Compact\n groups of men began to run, off toward the west. The whisper of sound\n had grown louder in Kirk's ears. He could hear men yelling and the\n ringing of metal on stone. \n\n   He started to run, holding Randl's elbow. Grey dust blew under their\n feet. The drifts of crystal stones sent their sound shivering back at\n them in splinters. Kirk said fiercely: \n\n   \"What did you see?\" \n\n   They were passing under the hill now. Randl jerked his head. \"Up there,\n Wes.\" \n\n   Kirk looked up. Someone was standing at the doorway of the Captain's\n hut. Someone tall and slender and the color of the Sunstar from head to\n foot. \n\n   \"I saw her,\" said Randl hoarsely. \"She was carrying heat-stones into\n the Ship.\" \n\n   Kirk's pupils shrank to points no warmer nor softer than the tip of his\n knife. He smiled, almost gently, looking up the hill. \n\n   The captain's yellow daughter, taking life into the Ship.  \n   It was a big raid. Kirk saw that when he scrambled up out of the last\n gully, half-carrying the wheezing Randl. The Piruts had come up the\n tongue of rock between two deep cuts and tackled the guards' pillbox\n head on. They hadn't taken it, not yet. But they were still trying,\n piling up their dead on the swept grey stone. \n\n   They were using shags again. They drove the lumbering beasts on into\n the hail of stones and thrown spears from the pillbox, keeping low\n behind them, and then climbing on the round hairy bodies. It took\n courage, because sometimes the shags turned and clawed the men who\n drove them, and sometimes the dead ones weren't quite dead and it was\n too bad for the man who climbed on them. \n\n   It looked to Kirk as though the pillbox was pretty far gone. \n\n   He ran down the slope with the others, slipping in the crystal drifts.\n Randl was spent. Kirk kept him going, thinking of the huts back there\n on the plain, and Ma and Lil and the little ones, and the baby. You had\n to fight the Piruts, no matter what you thought about the Officers. You\n had to keep them from getting onto the plain. \n\n   He wondered about Pa. Hunting shags in the outer gullies was mean work\n any time, but when the Piruts were raiding.... \n\n   No time to think about that. Wite, the second son of the First Officer,\n was signalling for double time. Kirk ran faster, his ears twitching\n furiously as they sifted the flying echoes into some kind of order. \n\n   Pa hadn't been alone, of course. Frank and Russ went with him. The\n three of them would have sense enough to keep safe. Maybe they were in\n the pillbox. \n\n   A big raid. More Piruts than he'd ever seen before. He wondered why.\n He wondered how so many of them had been able to get so close to the\n pillbox all at once, walking two or three abreast on the narrow tongue\n of rock under the spears and slingstones. \n\n   They poured in through the gates of the stone-walled building,\n scattering up onto the parapet. There were slits in the rooms below and\n rusty metal things crouching behind them, but they weren't any good for\n fighting. A man needed shoulder room for spear and sling. \n\n   It was pretty hot up there. The wall of bodies had built up so high,\n mostly with shags, that the Piruts were coming right over the wall.\n Kirk's nose wrinkled at the smell of blood. He avoided the biggest\n puddles and found a place to stand between the dead. \n\n   Randl went down on his knees. He was coughing horribly, but his hot\n black eyes saw everything. He tried three times to lift his sling and\n gave it up. \n\n   \"I'll cover you,\" said Kirk. He began taking crystal pebbles out of a\n big pile that was kept there and hurling them at the Piruts. They made\n a singing noise in the air, and they didn't stop going when they hit.\n They were heavy for their size, very heavy, with sharp edges. \n\n   Randl said, \"Something funny, Wes. Too many Piruts. They couldn't risk\n 'em on an ordinary raid.\" \n\n   Kirk grunted. A Pirut with red hair standing straight in the wind came\n over the wall. Kirk speared him left-handed in the belly, dodged the\n downstroke of his loaded sap, and kicked the body out of the way. \n\n   He said, \"Wonder how they got so close, so fast?\" \n\n   \"Some trick.\" Randl laughed suddenly. \"Funny their wanting the Ship as\n much as you and I do.\" \n\n   \"Think they could know what's in it?\" \n\n   Randl's narrow shoulders twitched. \"Near as we know, their legend is\n the same as ours. Something holy in the Ship, sacred and tabu. Only\n difference is they want to get it for themselves, and we want to keep\n it.\" He coughed and spat in sudden angry disgust. \"And we've swallowed\n that stuff. We've let the Officers hoard heat and food so they can live\n no matter what happens to us. We're fools, Wes! A lot of bloody fools!\" \n\n   He got up and began jabbing with his spear at heads that poked up over\n the wall.  \n   The Piruts began to slack off. Stones still whistled past Kirk's\n head\u2014a couple of them had grazed him by now\u2014and spears showered down,\n but they weren't climbing the walls any more. \n\n   Randl grounded his spear, gasping. \"That's that. Pretty soon they'll\n break, and then we can start thinking about....\" \n\n   He stopped. Kirk put a stone accurately through the back of a Pirut's\n head and said grimly: \n\n   \"Yeah. About what     we're    going to do.\" \n\n   Randl didn't answer. He sat down suddenly, doubled over. Kirk grinned.\n \"Take it easy,\" he said softly. \"I'll cover you.\" \n\n   Randl whispered, \"Wes. Wes!\" He held up one thin hand. Kirk let his own\n drop, looking at it. There was blood on it, running clear to the elbow. \n\n   He went down beside Randl, putting his arms around him, trying to see.\n Randl shook him off. \n\n   \"Don't move me, you fool! Just listen.\" His voice was harsh and rapid.\n He was holding both hands over the left side of his neck, where it\n joined the shoulder. Kirk could see the bright blood beating up through\n his fingers. \n\n   He said, \"Jakk, I'll get the sawbones....\" \n\n   Hot black eyes turned to his. Burnt-out fires in a face with the young\n beard hardly full on its sharp jaw. \n\n   \"Sit down, Wes, quick, and listen. Sawbones is no good\u2014and why would\n I want to go on living anyway?\" \n\n   He smiled. Kirk had never seen him smile like that, without bitterness\n or pain. He sat down, crouched on the body of a man who lived only two\n huts away from him. The blood made little red fountains between Randl's\n fingers. \n\n   \"It's up to you, Wes. You're the only one that really knows about the\n Ship. You'll do better than I would, anyhow. You're a fighter. You\n carry it on, so the Hans can live. Promise.\" \n\n   Kirk nodded. He couldn't say anything. The heat was dying in Randl's\n eyes. \n\n   \"Listen, Wes. I saw the secret way into Ship. Bend closer, and\n listen....\" \n\n   Kirk bent. He didn't move for a long time. After a while Randl's voice\n stopped, and then the blood wasn't pumping any more, just oozing.\n Randl's hands slid away, so that Kirk could see the hole the stone had\n made. Everything seemed to be very quiet. \n\n   Kirk sat there, holding Randl in his arms. \n\n   Presently someone came up and shook Kirk's shoulder and said, \"Hey,\n kid, are you deaf? We been yelling for you.\" He stopped, and then said\n more gently, \"Oh. Jakk got it, did he?\" \n\n   Kirk laid the body carefully on the stones and got up. \"Yeah.\" \n\n   \"Kind of a pal of yours, wasn't he?\" \n\n   \"He wasn't very strong. He needed someone to cover him.\" \n\n   \"Too bad.\" The man shook his head, and then shrugged. \"Maybe it's\n better, at that. He was headed for trouble, that one. Kinda leading you\n that way, too, I heard. Always talking.\" \n\n   He looked at Kirk's face and shut up suddenly. He turned away and\n grunted over his shoulders, \"The O.D.'s looking for you.\" \n\n   Kirk followed. The wind was cold, howling up from the outer gullies.  \n   The Officer of the Day was waiting at the north end of the wall.\n There was a ladder dropped over it now, and men were climbing up and\n down with bodies and sheaves of recovered spears. More were busy down\n below, rolling the dead Piruts and the shags down into the deep gullies\n for the scavenger rats and the living shags who didn't mind turning\n cannibal. \n\n   That ladder made Kirk think of Pa. It was the only way for a man to get\n into the outer gullies from the west escarpment of the colony. He shook\n some of the queer heaviness out of his head, touched his forelock and\n said: \n\n   \"I'm Wes Kirk, sir. You wanted me?\" \n\n   \"Yes.\" The O.D. was also the Third Officer. Taller than Kirk, thinner,\n with the hair going grey on his body and exhausted eyes sunk deep under\n his horny overlids. He said quietly: \n\n   \"I'm sorry to have to tell you this....\" \n\n   Kirk knew. The knowledge leaped through him. It was strange, to feel a\n spear-stab where there was no spear. \n\n   He said, \"Pa.\" \n\n   The Officer nodded. He seemed very tired, and he didn't look at Kirk.\n He hadn't, after the first glance. \n\n   \"Your father, and his two friends.\" \n\n   Kirk shivered. The horny lids dropped over his eyes. \"I wish I'd\n known,\" he whispered. \"I'd have killed more of them.\" \n\n   The Officer put his hands flat on the top of the wall and looked at\n them as if they were strange things and no part of him. \n\n   \"Kirk,\" he said, \"this is going to be hard to explain. I've never done\n anything as hard. The Piruts didn't kill them. They were responsible,\n but they didn't actually kill them.\" \n\n   Wes raised his head slowly. \"I don't understand.\" \n\n   \"We saw them coming up the tongue of rock. The Piruts were behind them,\n but not far. Not far enough. One of the three, it wasn't your father,\n called to us to put the ladder down. We waited....\" \n\n   A muscle began to twitch under Kirk's eye. That, too, was something\n that had never happened before, like the stab of pain with no spear\n behind it. He licked his lips and repeated hoarsely: \n\n   \"I don't understand.\" \n\n   The Officer tightened suddenly and made one hand into a fist and beat\n it slowly on the wall, up and down. \n\n   \"I didn't want to give the order. God knows I didn't want to! But there\n was nothing else to do.\" \n\n   A man came up over the top of the ladder. He was carrying a body over\n his shoulder, and breathing hard. \n\n   \"Here's Kirk,\" he said. \"Where'll I put him?\" \n\n   There was a clear space off to the right. Kirk pointed to it. \"Over\n there, Charley. I'll help.\" \n\n   It was hard to move. He'd never been tired like this before. He'd never\n been afraid like this, either. He didn't know what he was afraid of.\n Something in the Officer's voice. \n\n   He helped to lay his father down. He'd seen bodies before. He'd handled\n them, fighting on the pillbox walls. But never one he'd known so long,\n one he'd eaten and slept and wrestled with. The thick arm that hauled\n him out of bed this morning, the big hands that warmed the baby against\n the barrel chest. You saw it lying lax and cold, but you didn't believe\n it. \n\n   You saw it. You saw the spear shaft sticking out clean from the\n heart.... \n\n   You saw it.... \n\n   \"That's one of our spears!\" He screamed it, like a woman. \"One of our\n own\u2014from the front!\" \n\n   \"I let them get as close as I dared,\" said the Officer tonelessly. \"I\n tried to find a way. But there wasn't any way but the ladder, and that\n was what the Piruts wanted. That's why they made them come.\" \n\n   Kirk's voice wasn't a voice at all. \"You killed them. You killed my\n father.\" \n\n   \"Three lives, against all those back on the plain. We held our fire\n too long as it was, hoping. The Piruts nearly broke through. Try to\n understand! I had to do it.\" \n\n   Kirk's spear made a flat clatter on the stone. He started forward. Men\n moved in and held him, without rancor, looking at their own feet. \n\n   \"Please try to understand,\" whispered the Officer. \"I had to do it.\" \n\n   The Officer, the bloody wall, the stars and the cold grey gullies all\n went away. There was nothing but darkness, and wind, a long way off.\n Kirk thought of Pa coming up under the wall, close to safety, close\n enough to touch it, and no way through. Pa and Frank and Russ, standing\n under the wall, looking up, and no way through. \n\n   Looking up, calling to the men they knew, asking for help and getting a\n spear through the heart. \n\n   After that, even the wind was gone, and the darkness had turned red.  \n   There was a voice, a long way off. It said, \"God, he's strong!\" Over\n and over. It got louder. There were weights on his arms and legs, and\n he couldn't throw them off. He was pressed against something. \n\n   It was the wall. He saw that after a while. The wall where the Officer\n had been standing. There were six men holding him, three on each side.\n The Officer was gone. \n\n   Kirk relaxed. He was shivering and covered with rime from body sweat.\n Somebody whistled. \n\n   \"Six men! Didn't know the kid had it in him.\" \n\n   The Officer's voice said dully, \"No discipline. Better take him home.\" \n\n   Kirk tried to turn. The six men swung with him. Kirk said, \"You better\n discipline me. You better kill me, because, if you don't, I'll kill\n you.\" \n\n   \"I don't blame you, boy. Go and rest. You'll understand.\" \n\n   \"I'll understand, all right.\" Kirk's voice was a hoarse, harsh whisper\n that came out by itself and wouldn't be stopped. \"I'll understand about\n Pa, and the Ship with the heat-stones in it, and the Captain's yellow\n daughter getting fat and warm while my sisters freeze and go hungry.\n I'll understand, and I'll make everybody else understand, too!\" \n\n   The Officer's eyes held a quick fire. \"Boy! Do you know what you're\n saying?\" \n\n   \"You bet I know!\" \n\n   \"That's mutiny. For God's sake, don't make things worse!\" \n\n   \"Worse for us, or for you?\" Kirk was shouting, holding his head up in\n the wind. \"Listen, you men! Do you know what the Officers are doing up\n there in the Ship they won't let us touch?\" \n\n   There was an uneasy stirring among the Hans, a slipping aside of\n luminous black eyes. The Officer shut his jaw tight. He stepped in\n close to Kirk. \n\n   \"Shut up,\" he said urgently. \"Don't make me punish you, not now. You're\n talking rot, but it's dangerous.\" \n\n   Kirk's eyes were hot and not quite sane. He couldn't have stopped if\n he'd wanted to. \n\n   \"Rot, is it? Jakk Randl knew. He saw with his own eyes and he told me\n while he was dying. The Captain's yellow daughter, sneaking heat-stones\n into....\" \n\n   The Officer hit him on the jaw, carefully and without heat. Kirk sagged\n down. The Officer stepped back, looking as though he had a pain in him\n that he didn't want to show. \n\n   He said quietly, but so that everyone could hear him, \"Discipline, for\n not longer than it takes to clear the rock below.\" \n\n   Two of the men nodded and took Kirk away down a flight of stone steps.\n One of the four who were left looked over the wall and spat. \n\n   \"Rock's pretty near clean,\" he said, \"but even so....\" He shook himself\n like a dog. \"That Jakk Randl, he was always talking.\" \n\n   One of the others flicked a quick look around and whispered, \"Yeah. And\n maybe he knew what he was talking about!\"  \n", "source": "quality_raw", "evaluation": "exam"}
{"instructions": ["How did Ninon\u2019s travel companion fare?\n\n (A) He died from the forces of light speed travel\n (B) He became more youthful until a baby and then ceased to exist\n (C) He was reduced to particles\n (D) He landed with Ninon", "How did Ninon remain so youthful into her 50s on Earth?\n\n (A) She had access to other space technologies to keep her youthful from blackmailing the Commander\n (B) She was not youthful on Earth\n (C) She painstakingly disciplined herself to keep wrinkles from forming\n (D) She had travelled at light speed once before with Robert\u2019s dad", "How did Robert react to Ninon\u2019s plan?\n\n (A) He was delighted to have her as a companion because he loved her\n (B) He was shocked that she had masterminded a way onto the flight\n (C) He was shocked to realize she had training to fly in space\n (D) He was not surprised, as he had suspected her for some time", "How long was the spaceship in flight for in Earth years?\n\n (A) Unknown\n (B) 10 years\n (C) 1 year\n (D) 100 years", "How did Ninon think she could achieve eternal youth?\n\n (A) She believed one flight was enough to make her youth eternal upon returning to Earth\n (B) She believed that returning to Earth many, many years in the future there would be technologies to make humans live forever\n (C) Eternal youth was what she believed she would achieve in death\n (D) Once traveling faster than light was possible, she thought she might continually do this to remain young", "Had any other civilization discussed in the story discovered space travel?\n\n (A) No, only Earth\n (B) There was one other civilization that Earth knew had space travel\n (C) Space travel was known to exist in several other galaxies\n (D) Other spaceships were seen on the flight, suggesting yes", "Why did Robert want to go to space?\n\n (A) He wanted to follow in his father\u2019s footsteps and fly to space like him\n (B) He needed to escape his life on Earth\n (C) He was after eternal youth himself\n (D) We don\u2019t know for sure from the story", "What best describes the relationship between Ninon and Robert?\n\n (A) Neither character knows about or cares for the other too much.\n (B) They're friends with benefits but each wants a more committed relationship with the other person.\n (C) They're lifelong friends who care for each other.\n (D) They become rivals who'll stop at nothing to ensure the other fails to accomplish their goal.", "Is there a romantic connection between Ninon and Robert?\n\n (A) Yes. He cares dearly for her and spends his last night with her and she wants him because of the resources and access he can provide for her.\n (B) Not really. Ninon sees him as a pawn to hijack the flight, and if Robert truly loved Ninon he probably wouldn't end up participating in the space travel.\n (C) Somewhat. They both care for each other but in different ways, it's unclear if they would survive a long-term relationship given Robert's space travel.\n (D) No. Robert only went to Ninon for sex before his takeoff, he wouldn't actually leave if he cared about Ninon's wellbeing.", "Of the following options, what best summarizes this story?\n\n (A) A woman attempts to hijack the flight of an astronaut she's in love with so they can both stay young and beautiful together forever.\n (B) A vain woman has a tough time accepting the natural aging process but eventually succeeds.\n (C) A woman has a plan to reverse her aging process and the reader sees her follow through with it.\n (D) A woman tries to benevolently prove that people can become younger through space travel.", "Of the following options, which is not a technology used in this story?\n\n (A) Guns that cause people to disintegrate rapidly\n (B) Guns that freeze people in time to prevent them from aging\n (C) Cosmetic procedures to enhance youthfulness\n (D) Long-distance space travel", "If Ninon hadn't had as many procedures, what would've happened?\n\n (A) She would've dated somebody her age rather than Robert and would be happy anyway.\n (B) She wouldn't have been able to hijack the flight because Robert wouldn't want to date someone as old as her.\n (C) She would've looked older and probably would've felt more fulfilled.\n (D) She wouldn't have been able to hijack the flight because her body would've been too old to take on the damage that space travel causes.", "If Robert had refused to take Ninon with him, what would've most likely happened?\n\n (A) Robert would've sneakily gone by himself to the takeoff and ditched Ninon.\n (B) Ninon would've shot and killed him because he'd become useless in her endeavors.\n (C) Ninon would've held him at gunpoint or drugged him until they had successfully completed takeoff.\n (D) Ninon would've talked him into it anyway because he's so dearly in love with her.", "What was the narrative purpose of the video that Ninon shows Robert?\n\n (A) It was to show Ninon's love and dedication to Robert as a potential lifelong partner.\n (B) It was to prove that Ninon thinks little of Robert because he's can easily be replaced as a romantic partner.\n (C) It was to show how much thought Ninon has put into making her plan and how determined she is to see it succeed.\n (D) It was to prove that everyone makes mistakes, and that Ninon is comfortable admitting that she's not perfect."], "outputs": ["(C) He was reduced to particles", "(C) She painstakingly disciplined herself to keep wrinkles from forming", "(B) He was shocked that she had masterminded a way onto the flight", "(A) Unknown", "(D) Once traveling faster than light was possible, she thought she might continually do this to remain young", "(A) No, only Earth", "(D) We don\u2019t know for sure from the story", "(A) Neither character knows about or cares for the other too much.", "(B) Not really. Ninon sees him as a pawn to hijack the flight, and if Robert truly loved Ninon he probably wouldn't end up participating in the space travel.", "(C) A woman has a plan to reverse her aging process and the reader sees her follow through with it.", "(B) Guns that freeze people in time to prevent them from aging", "(B) She wouldn't have been able to hijack the flight because Robert wouldn't want to date someone as old as her.", "(C) Ninon would've held him at gunpoint or drugged him until they had successfully completed takeoff.", "(C) It was to show how much thought Ninon has put into making her plan and how determined she is to see it succeed."], "input": "<!-- $Id: header.txt 236 2009-12-07 18:57:00Z vlsimpson $ -->  \n\n   TIME and the WOMAN \n\n   By Dewey, G. Gordon \n\n   HER ONLY PASSION WAS BEAUTY\u2014BEAUTY WHICH WOULD LAST FOREVER.\n AND FOR IT\u2014SHE'D DO ANYTHING!    Ninon stretched. And purred, almost. There was something lazily catlike\n in her flexing; languid, yet ferally alert. The silken softness of her\n couch yielded to her body as she rubbed against it in sensual delight.\n There was almost the litheness of youth in her movements. \n\n   It was true that some of her joints seemed to have a hint of stiffness\n in them, but only     she    knew it. And if some of the muscles beneath her\n polished skin did not respond with quite the resilience of the youth\n they once had, only     she    knew that, too.     But they would again    , she\n told herself fiercely. \n\n   She caught herself. She had let down her guard for an instant, and a\n frown had started. She banished it imperiously. Frowns\u2014just one\n frown\u2014could start a wrinkle! And nothing was as stubborn as a wrinkle.\n One soft, round, white, long-nailed finger touched here, and here, and\n there\u2014the corners of her eyes, the corners of her mouth, smoothing\n them. \n\n   Wrinkles acknowledged only one master, the bio-knife of the facial\n surgeons. But the bio-knife could not thrust deep enough to excise the\n stiffness in a joint; was not clever enough to remold the outlines of a\n figure where they were beginning to blur and\u2014sag. \n\n   No one else could see it\u2014yet. But Ninon could! \n\n   Again the frown almost came, and again she scourged it fiercely into the\n back of her mind. Time was her enemy. But she had had other enemies, and\n destroyed them, one way or another, cleverly or ruthlessly as\n circumstances demanded. Time, too, could be destroyed. Or enslaved.\n Ninon sorted through her meagre store of remembered reading. Some old\n philosopher had said, \"If you can't whip 'em, join 'em!\" Crude, but apt. \n\n   Ninon wanted to smile. But smiles made wrinkles, too. She was content to\n feel that sureness of power in her grasp\u2014the certain knowledge that\n she, first of all people, would turn Time on itself and destroy it. She\n would be youthful again. She would thread through the ages to come, like\n a silver needle drawing a golden filament through the layer on layer of\n the cloth of years that would engarment her eternal youth. Ninon knew\n how. \n\n   Her shining, gray-green eyes strayed to the one door in her apartment\n through which no man had ever gone. There the exercising machines; the\n lotions; the unguents; the diets; the radioactive drugs; the records of\n endocrine transplantations, of blood transfusions. She dismissed them\n contemptuously. Toys! The mirages of a pseudo-youth. She would leave\n them here for someone else to use in masking the downhill years. \n\n   There, on the floor beside her, was the answer she had sought so long. A\n book. \"Time in Relation to Time.\" The name of the author, his academic\n record in theoretical physics, the cautious, scientific wording of his\n postulates, meant nothing to her. The one thing that had meaning for her\n was that Time could be manipulated. And she would manipulate it. For\n Ninon! \n\n   The door chimes tinkled intimately. Ninon glanced at her watch\u2014Robert\n was on time. She arose from the couch, made sure that the light was\n behind her at just the right angle so he could see the outlines of her\n figure through the sheerness of her gown, then went to the door and\n opened it. \n\n   A young man stood there. Young, handsome, strong, his eyes aglow with\n the desire he felt, Ninon knew, when he saw her. He took one quick step\n forward to clasp her in his strong young arms. \n\n   \"Ninon, my darling,\" he whispered huskily. \n\n   Ninon did not have to make her voice throaty any more, and that annoyed\n her too. Once she had had to do it deliberately. But now, through the\n years, it had deepened. \n\n   \"Not yet, Robert,\" she whispered. She let him feel the slight but firm\n resistance so nicely calculated to breach his own; watched the deepening\n flush of his cheeks with the clinical sureness that a thousand such\n experiences with men had given her. \n\n   Then, \"Come in, Robert,\" she said, moving back a step. \"I've been\n waiting for you.\" \n\n   She noted, approvingly, that Robert was in his spaceman's uniform, ready\n for the morrow's flight, as he went past her to the couch. She pushed\n the button which closed and locked the door, then seated herself beside\n the young spaceman on the silken couch. \n\n   His hands rested on her shoulders and he turned her until they faced\n each other. \n\n   \"Ninon,\" he said, \"you are so beautiful. Let me look at you for a long\n time\u2014to carry your image with me through all of time and space.\" \n\n   Again Ninon let him feel just a hint of resistance, and risked a tiny\n pout. \"If you could just take me with you, Robert....\" \n\n   Robert's face clouded. \"If I only could!\" he said wistfully. \"If there\n were only room. But this is an experimental flight\u2014no more than two can\n go.\" \n\n   Again his arms went around her and he leaned closer. \n\n   \"Wait!\" Ninon said, pushing him back. \n\n   \"Wait? Wait for what?\" Robert glanced at his watch. \"Time is running\n out. I have to be at the spaceport by dawn\u2014three hours from now.\" \n\n   Ninon said, \"But that's three hours, Robert.\" \n\n   \"But I haven't slept yet tonight. There's been so much to do. I should\n rest a little.\" \n\n   \"I'll be more than rest for you.\" \n\n   \"Yes, Ninon.... Oh, yes.\" \n\n   \"Not yet, darling.\" Again her hands were between them. \"First, tell me\n about the flight tomorrow.\" \n\n   The young spaceman's eyes were puzzled, hurt. \"But Ninon, I've told you\n before ... there is so much of you that I want to remember ... so little\n time left ... and you'll be gone when I get back....\" \n\n   Ninon let her gray-green eyes narrow ever so slightly as she leaned away\n from him. But he blundered on. \n\n   \"... or very old, no longer the Ninon I know ... oh, all right. But you\n know all this already. We've had space flight for years, but only\n rocket-powered, restricting us to our own system. Now we have a new kind\n of drive. Theoretically we can travel faster than light\u2014how many times\n faster we don't know yet. I'll start finding out tomorrow, with the\n first test flight of the ship in which the new drive is installed. If it\n works, the universe is ours\u2014we can go anywhere.\" \n\n   \"Will it work?\" Ninon could not keep the avid greediness out of her\n voice. \n\n   Robert said, hesitantly, \"We think it will. I'll know better by this\n time tomorrow.\" \n\n   \"What of you\u2014of me\u2014. What does this mean to us\u2014to people?\" \n\n   Again the young spaceman hesitated. \"We ... we don't know, yet. We think\n that time won't have the same meaning to everyone....\" \n\n   \"... When you travel faster than light. Is that it?\" \n\n   \"Well ... yes. Something like that.\" \n\n   \"And I'll be\u2014old\u2014or dead, when you get back? If you get back?\" \n\n   Robert leaned forward and buried his face in the silvery-blonde hair\n which swept down over Ninon's shoulders. \n\n   \"Don't say it, darling,\" he murmured. \n\n   This time Ninon permitted herself a wrinkling smile. If she was right,\n and she knew she was, it could make no difference now. There would be no\n wrinkles\u2014there would be only the soft flexible skin, naturally soft and\n flexible, of real youth. \n\n   She reached behind her, over the end of the couch, and pushed three\n buttons. The light, already soft, dimmed slowly to the faintest of\n glows; a suave, perfumed dusk as precisely calculated as was the exact\n rate at which she let all resistance ebb from her body. \n\n   Robert's voice was muffled through her hair. \"What were those clicks?\"\n he asked. \n\n   Ninon's arms stole around his neck. \"The lights,\" she whispered, \"and a\n little automatic warning to tell you when it's time to go....\" \n\n   The boy did not seem to remember about the third click. Ninon was not\n quite ready to tell him, yet. But she would....  \n   Two hours later a golden-voiced bell chimed, softly, musically. The\n lights slowly brightened to no more than the lambent glow which was all\n that Ninon permitted. She ran her fingers through the young spaceman's\n tousled hair and shook him gently. \n\n   \"It's time to go, Robert,\" she said. \n\n   Robert fought back from the stubborn grasp of sleep. \"So soon?\" he\n mumbled. \n\n   \"And I'm going with you,\" Ninon said. \n\n   This brought him fully awake. \"I'm sorry, Ninon. You can't!\" He sat up\n and yawned, stretched, the healthy stretch of resilient youth. Then he\n reached for the jacket he had tossed over on a chair. \n\n   Ninon watched him with envious eyes, waiting until he was fully alert. \n\n   \"Robert!\" she said, and the youth paused at the sharpness of her voice.\n \"How old are you?\" \n\n   \"I've told you before, darling\u2014twenty-four.\" \n\n   \"How old do you think I am?\" \n\n   He gazed at her in silent curiosity for a moment, then said, \"Come to\n think of it, you've never told me. About twenty-two or -three, I'd say.\" \n\n   \"Tomorrow is my birthday. I'll be fifty-two.\" \n\n   He stared at her in shocked amazement. Then, as his gaze went over the\n smooth lines of her body, the amazement gave way to disbelief, and he\n chuckled. \"The way you said it, Ninon, almost had me believing you. You\n can't possibly be that old, or anywhere near it. You're joking.\" \n\n   Ninon's voice was cold. She repeated it: \"I am fifty-two years old. I\n knew your father, before you were born.\" \n\n   This time she could see that he believed it. The horror he felt was easy\n to read on his face while he struggled to speak. \"Then ... God help\n me ... I've been making love to ... an old woman!\" His voice was low,\n bitter, accusing. \n\n   Ninon slapped him. \n\n   He swayed slightly, then his features froze as the red marks of her\n fingers traced across his left cheek. At last he bowed, mockingly, and\n said, \"Your pardon, Madame. I forgot myself. My father taught me to be\n respectful to my elders.\" \n\n   For that Ninon could have killed him. As he turned to leave, her hand\n sought the tiny, feather-light beta-gun cunningly concealed in the folds\n of her gown. But the driving force of her desire made her stay her hand. \n\n   \"Robert!\" she said in peremptory tones. \n\n   The youth paused at the door and glanced back, making no effort to\n conceal the loathing she had aroused in him. \"What do you want?\" \n\n   Ninon said, \"You'll never make that flight without me.... Watch!\" \n\n   Swiftly she pushed buttons again. The room darkened, as before. Curtains\n at one end divided and rustled back, and a glowing screen sprang to life\n on the wall revealed behind them. And there, in life and movement and\n color and sound and dimension, she\u2014and Robert\u2014projected themselves,\n together on the couch, beginning at the moment Ninon had pressed the\n three buttons earlier. Robert's arms were around her, his face buried in\n the hair falling over her shoulders.... \n\n   The spaceman's voice was doubly bitter in the darkened room. \"So that's\n it,\" he said. \"A recording! Another one for your collection, I suppose.\n But of what use is it to you? I have neither money nor power. I'll be\n gone from this Earth in an hour. And you'll be gone from it,\n permanently\u2014at your age\u2014before I get back. I have nothing to lose, and\n you have nothing to gain.\" \n\n   Venomous with triumph, Ninon's voice was harsh even to her ears. \"On the\n contrary, my proud and impetuous young spaceman, I have much to gain,\n more than you could ever understand. When it was announced that you were\n to be trained to command this experimental flight I made it my business\n to find out everything possible about you. One other man is going. He\n too has had the same training, and could take over in your place. A\n third man has also been trained, to stand by in reserve. You are\n supposed to have rested and slept the entire night. If the Commandant of\n Space Research knew that you had not....\" \n\n   \"I see. That's why you recorded my visit tonight. But I leave in less\n than an hour. You'd never be able to tell Commander Pritchard in time to\n make any difference, and he'd never come here to see....\" \n\n   Ninon laughed mirthlessly, and pressed buttons again. The screen\n changed, went blank for a moment, then figures appeared again. On the\n couch were she and a man, middle-aged, dignified in appearance,\n uniformed. Blane Pritchard, Commandant of Space Research. His arms were\n around her, and his face was buried in her hair. She let the recording\n run for a moment, then shut it off and turned up the lights. \n\n   To Robert, she said, \"I think Commander Pritchard would be here in five\n minutes if I called and told him that I have information which seriously\n affects the success of the flight.\" \n\n   The young spaceman's face was white and stricken as he stared for long\n moments, wordless, at Ninon. Then in defeated tones he said, \"You\n scheming witch! What do you want?\" \n\n   There was no time to gloat over her victory. That would come later.\n Right now minutes counted. She snatched up a cloak, pushed Robert out\n through the door and hurried him along the hall and out into the street\n where his car waited. \n\n   \"We must hurry,\" she said breathlessly. \"We can get to the spaceship\n ahead of schedule, before your flight partner arrives, and be gone from\n Earth before anyone knows what is happening. I'll be with you, in his\n place.\" \n\n   Robert did not offer to help her into the car, but got in first and\n waited until she closed the door behind her, then sped away from the\n curb and through the streets to the spaceport. \n\n   Ninon said, \"Tell me, Robert, isn't it true that if a clock recedes from\n Earth at the speed of light, and if we could watch it as it did so, it\n would still be running but it would never show later time?\" \n\n   The young man said gruffly, \"Roughly so, according to theory.\" \n\n   \"And if the clock went away from Earth faster than the speed of light,\n wouldn't it run backwards?\" \n\n   The answer was curtly cautious. \"It might appear to.\" \n\n   \"Then if people travel at the speed of light they won't get any older?\" \n\n   Robert flicked a curious glance at her. \"If you could watch them from\n Earth they appear not to. But it's a matter of relativity....\" \n\n   Ninon rushed on. She had studied that book carefully. \"And if people\n travel faster than light, a lot faster, they'll grow younger, won't\n they?\" \n\n   Robert said, \"So that's what's in your mind.\" He busied himself with\n parking the car at the spaceport, then went on: \"You want to go back in\n the past thirty years, and be a girl again. While I grow younger, too,\n into a boy, then a child, a baby, at last nothing....\" \n\n   \"I'll try to be sorry for you, Robert.\" \n\n   Ninon felt again for her beta-gun as he stared at her for a long minute,\n his gaze a curious mixture of amusement and pity. Then, \"Come on,\" he\n said flatly, turning to lead the way to the gleaming space ship which\n poised, towering like a spire, in the center of the blast-off basin. And\n added, \"I think I shall enjoy this trip, Madame, more than you will.\" \n\n   The young man's words seemed to imply a secret knowledge that Ninon did\n not possess. A sudden chill of apprehension rippled through her, and\n almost she turned back. But no ... there was the ship! There was youth;\n and beauty; and the admiration of men, real admiration. Suppleness in\n her muscles and joints again. No more diets. No more transfusions. No\n more transplantations. No more the bio-knife. She could smile again, or\n frown again. And after a few years she could make the trip again ... and\n again....  \n   The space ship stood on fiery tiptoes and leaped from Earth, high into\n the heavens, and out and away. Past rusted Mars. Past the busy\n asteroids. Past the sleeping giants, Jupiter and Saturn. Past pale\n Uranus and Neptune; and frigid, shivering Pluto. Past a senseless,\n flaming comet rushing inward towards its rendezvous with the Sun. And on\n out of the System into the steely blackness of space where the stars\n were hard, burnished points of light, unwinking, motionless; eyes\u2014eyes\n staring at the ship, staring through the ports at Ninon where she lay,\n stiff and bruised and sore, in the contoured acceleration sling. \n\n   The yammering rockets cut off, and the ship seemed to poise on the ebon\n lip of a vast Stygian abyss. \n\n   Joints creaking, muscles protesting, Ninon pushed herself up and out of\n the sling against the artificial gravity of the ship. Robert was already\n seated at the controls. \n\n   \"How fast are we going?\" she asked; and her voice was rusty and harsh. \n\n   \"Barely crawling, astronomically,\" he said shortly. \"About forty-six\n thousand miles a minute.\" \n\n   \"Is that as fast as the speed of light?\" \n\n   \"Hardly, Madame,\" he said, with a condescending chuckle. \n\n   \"Then make it go faster!\" she screamed. \"And faster and faster\u2014hurry!\n What are we waiting for?\" \n\n   The young spaceman swivelled about in his seat. He looked haggard and\n drawn from the strain of the long acceleration. Despite herself, Ninon\n could feel the sagging in her own face; the sunkenness of her eyes. She\n felt tired, hating herself for it\u2014hating having this young man see\n her. \n\n   He said, \"The ship is on automatic control throughout. The course is\n plotted in advance; all operations are plotted. There is nothing we can\n do but wait. The light drive will cut in at the planned time.\" \n\n   \"Time! Wait! That's all I hear!\" Ninon shrieked. \"Do something!\" \n\n   Then she heard it. A low moan, starting from below the limit of\n audibility, then climbing, up and up and up and up, until it was a\n nerve-plucking whine that tore into her brain like a white-hot tuning\n fork. And still it climbed, up beyond the range of hearing, and up and\n up still more, till it could no longer be felt. But Ninon, as she\n stumbled back into the acceleration sling, sick and shaken, knew it was\n still there. The light drive! \n\n   She watched through the ports. The motionless, silent stars were moving\n now, coming toward them, faster and faster, as the ship swept out of the\n galaxy, shooting into her face like blazing pebbles from a giant\n slingshot. \n\n   She asked, \"How fast are we going now?\" \n\n   Robert's voice sounded far off as he replied, \"We are approaching the\n speed of light.\" \n\n   \"Make it go faster!\" she cried. \"Faster! Faster!\" \n\n   She looked out the ports again; looked back behind them\u2014and saw shining\n specks of glittering blackness falling away to melt into the sootiness\n of space. She shuddered, and knew without asking that these were stars\n dropping behind at a rate greater than light speed. \n\n   \"Now how fast are we going?\" she asked. She was sure that her voice was\n stronger; that strength was flowing back into her muscles and bones. \n\n   \"Nearly twice light speed.\" \n\n   \"Faster!\" she cried. \"We must go much faster! I must be young again.\n Youthful, and gay, and alive and happy.... Tell me, Robert, do you feel\n younger yet?\" \n\n   He did not answer.  \n   Ninon lay in the acceleration sling, gaining strength, and\u2014she\n knew\u2014youth. Her lost youth, coming back, to be spent all over again.\n How wonderful! No woman in all of time and history had ever done it. She\n would be immortal; forever young and lovely. She hardly noticed the\n stiffness in her joints when she got to her feet again\u2014it was just from\n lying in the sling so long. \n\n   She made her voice light and gay. \"Are we not going very, very fast,\n now, Robert?\" \n\n   He answered without turning. \"Yes. Many times the speed of light.\" \n\n   \"I knew it ... I knew it! Already I feel much younger. Don't you feel it\n too?\" \n\n   He did not answer, and Ninon kept on talking. \"How long have we been\n going, Robert?\" \n\n   He said, \"I don't know ... depends on where you are.\" \n\n   \"It must be hours ... days ... weeks. I should be hungry. Yes, I think I\n am hungry. I'll need food, lots of food. Young people have good\n appetites, don't they, Robert?\" \n\n   He pointed to the provisions locker, and she got food out and made it\n ready. But she could eat but a few mouthfuls.     It's the excitement    , she\n told herself. After all, no other woman, ever, had gone back through the\n years to be young again....  \n   Long hours she rested in the sling, gaining more strength for the day\n when they would land back on Earth and she could step out in all the\n springy vitality of a girl of twenty. And then as she watched through\n the ingenious ports she saw the stars of the far galaxies beginning to\n wheel about through space, and she knew that the ship had reached the\n halfway point and was turning to speed back through space to Earth,\n uncounted light-years behind them\u2014or before them. And she would still\n continue to grow younger and younger.... \n\n   She gazed at the slightly-blurred figure of the young spaceman on the\n far side of the compartment, focussing her eyes with effort. \"You are\n looking much younger, Robert,\" she said. \"Yes, I think you are becoming\n quite boyish, almost childish, in appearance.\" \n\n   He nodded slightly. \"You may be right,\" he said. \n\n   \"I must have a mirror,\" she cried. \"I must see for myself how much\n younger I have become. I'll hardly recognize myself....\" \n\n   \"There is no mirror,\" he told her. \n\n   \"No mirror? But how can I see....\" \n\n   \"Non-essentials were not included in the supplies on this ship. Mirrors\n are not essential\u2014to men.\" \n\n   The mocking gravity in his voice infuriated her. \"Then you shall be my\n mirror,\" she said. \"Tell me, Robert, am I not now much younger? Am I not\n becoming more and more beautiful? Am I not in truth the most desirable\n of women?... But I forget. After all, you are only a boy, by now.\" \n\n   He said, \"I'm afraid our scientists will have some new and interesting\n data on the effects of time in relation to time. Before long we'll begin\n to decelerate. It won't be easy or pleasant. I'll try to make you as\n comfortable as possible.\" \n\n   Ninon felt her face go white and stiff with rage. \"What do you mean?\" \n\n   Robert said, coldly brutal, \"You're looking your age, Ninon. Every year\n of your fifty-two!\" \n\n   Ninon snatched out the little beta-gun, then, leveled it and fired. And\n watched without remorse as the hungry electrons streamed forth to strike\n the young spaceman, turning him into a motionless, glowing figure which\n rapidly became misty and wraith-like, at last to disappear, leaving only\n a swirl of sparkling haze where he had stood. This too disappeared as\n its separate particles drifted to the metallite walls of the space ship,\n discharged their energy and ceased to sparkle, leaving only a thin film\n of dust over all.  \n   After a while Ninon got up again from the sling and made her way to the\n wall. She polished the dust away from a small area of it, trying to make\n the spot gleam enough so that she could use it for a mirror. She\n polished a long time, until at last she could see a ghostly reflection\n of her face in the rubbed spot. \n\n   Yes, unquestionably she was younger, more beautiful. Unquestionably Time\n was being kind to her, giving her back her youth. She was not sorry that\n Robert was gone\u2014there would be many young men, men her own age, when\n she got back to Earth. And that would be soon. She must rest more, and\n be ready. \n\n   The light drive cut off, and the great ship slowly decelerated as it\n found its way back into the galaxy from which it had started. Found its\n way back into the System which had borne it. Ninon watched through the\n port as it slid in past the outer planets. Had they changed? No, she\n could not see that they had\u2014only she had changed\u2014until Saturn loomed\n up through the port, so close by, it looked, that she might touch it.\n But Saturn had no rings. Here was change. She puzzled over it a moment,\n frowning then forgot it when she recognized Jupiter again as Saturn fell\n behind. Next would be Mars.... \n\n   But what was this? Not Mars! Not any planet she knew, or had seen\n before. Yet there, ahead, was Mars! A new planet, where the asteroids\n had been when she left! Was this the same system? Had there been a\n mistake in the calculations of the scientists and engineers who had\n plotted the course of the ship? Was something wrong? \n\n   But no matter\u2014she was still Ninon. She was young and beautiful. And\n wherever she landed there would be excitement and rushing about as she\n told her story. And men would flock to her. Young, handsome men! \n\n   She tottered back to the sling, sank gratefully into the comfort of it,\n closed her eyes, and waited.       The ship landed automatically, lowering itself to the land on a pillar\n of rushing flame, needing no help from its passenger. Then the flame\n died away\u2014and the ship\u2014and Ninon\u2014rested, quietly, serenely, while the\n rocket tubes crackled and cooled. The people outside gathered at a safe\n distance from it, waiting until they could come closer and greet the\n brave passengers who had voyaged through space from no one knew where.       There was shouting and laughing and talking, and much speculation.       \"The ship is from Maris, the red planet,\" someone said.       And another: \"No, no! It is not of this system. See how the hull is\n pitted\u2014it has traveled from afar.\"       An old man cried: \"It is a demon ship. It has come to destroy us all.\"       A murmur went through the crowd, and some moved farther back for\n safety, watching with alert curiosity.       Then an engineer ventured close, and said, \"The workmanship is similar\n to that in the space ship we are building, yet not the same. It is\n obviously not of our Aerth.\"       And a savant said, \"Yes, not of this Aerth. But perhaps it is from a\n parallel time stream, where there is a system with planets and peoples\n like us.\"       Then a hatch opened in the towering flank of the ship, and a ramp slid\n forth and slanted to the ground. The mingled voices of the crowd\n attended it. The fearful ones backed farther away. Some stood their\n ground. And the braver ones moved closer.       But no one appeared in the open hatch; no one came down the ramp. At\n last the crowd surged forward again.       Among them were a youth and a girl who stood, hand in hand, at the foot\n of the ramp, gazing at it and the ship with shining eyes, then at each\n other.       She said, \"I wonder, Robin, what it would be like to travel through far\n space on such a ship as that.\"       He squeezed her hand and said, \"We'll find out, Nina. Space travel will\n come, in our time, they've always said\u2014and there is the proof of it.\"       The girl rested her head against the young man's shoulder. \"You'll be\n one of the first, won't you, Robin? And you'll take me with you?\"       He slipped an arm around her. \"Of course. You know, Nina, our\n scientists say that if one could travel faster than the speed of light\n one could live in reverse. So when we get old we'll go out in space,\n very, very fast, and we'll grow young again, together!\"       Then a shout went up from the two men who had gone up the ramp into the\n ship to greet whoever was aboard. They came hurrying down, and Robin and\n Nina crowded forward to hear what they had to report.       They were puffing from the rush of their excitement. \"There is no one\n alive on the ship,\" they cried. \"Only an old, withered, white-haired\n lady, lying dead ... and alone. She must have fared long and far to have\n lived so long, to be so old in death. Space travel must be pleasant,\n indeed. It made her very happy, very, very happy\u2014for there is a smile\n on her face.\"  \n", "source": "quality_raw", "evaluation": "exam"}
{"instructions": ["What is the most likely meaning of the slang O.Q.? (in twentieth-century American English)\n\n (A) cool\n (B) no worries\n (C) my bad\n (D) O.K./OK", "Why does the Skipper stop abruptly after he says \"when you're running a blockade\"?\n\n (A) Because he realizes he's triggering trauma for Lieutenant Dugan. \n (B) Because he realizes he's insulting Lieutenant Dugan. \n (C) Because he realizes that he's repeating himself. \n (D) Because he realizes he's sharing news that he he hadn't meant to disclose so soon. ", "Why does the Skipper allow the new chef to use the heat-cannon as an incinerator?\n\n (A) Because the new chef just cooked a fine meal and Skipper can't bear to see him so discouraged. \n (B) Because Skipper figures it's a way to thank the new chef for coming on board so last minute. \n (C) Because Skipper thinks it'll get the new chef to stop offering up unsolicited tactical advice. \n (D) Because Skipper wants the new chef to cook marsh-duck and all the fixings. ", " Lieutenant Dugan brings up the examples of \"High G\" Gordon and \"Runt\" Hake in order to illustrates that...\n\n (A) the roughest, toughest scoundrels and pirates were self-made\n (B) effeminate behavior and taste is not incompatible with roughness and toughness\n (C) effeminate behavior and taste is incompatible with roughness and toughness \n (D) the roughest, toughest scoundrels and pirates were from Venus", "Why didn't the Skipper follow the new cook's advice about avoiding Vesta?\n\n (A) Because Lieutenant Dugan convinced Skipper not to follow the new cook's advice. \n (B) Because the Skipper considered himself smarter and more experienced than the new cook. \n (C) Because the new cook didn't bring up any reasons to support his advice. \n (D) Because the new cook asked for a heat-cannon which made the Skipper suspicious of the new cook's intentions. ", "Why was the new cook so upset that the Skipper decided to surrender?\n\n (A) He realized that if they surrendered they would be sent to concentration camps and he would no longer be able to continue cooking. \n (B) He realized that Skipper was more devoted to his own survival than to the Federation. \n (C) He spent his whole life in the Belt and he wanted to experience his first space fight. \n (D) He realized by surrendering, the Alliance could use their ship to sneak into Federation territory unnoticed. ", "What would've happened if the new cook had told the Skipper about the ekalastron deposits earlier?\n\n (A) The text doesn't indicate how the Skipper would've acted in a different scenario. \n (B) The Skipper still would've ignored the new cook's advice. \n (C) The Skipper would have mulled over the information for a few days before deciding to switch their course from Vesta to Iris. \n (D) The Skipper's would have set course for Iris from the beginning. ", "How did Dugan find a new cook?\n\n (A) He didn't\n (B) He appealed to the colonists\n (C) He tried employment agencies\n (D) He tried hotels and tourist homes"], "outputs": ["(D) O.K./OK", "(D) Because he realizes he's sharing news that he he hadn't meant to disclose so soon.", "(D) Because Skipper wants the new chef to cook marsh-duck and all the fixings.", "(B) effeminate behavior and taste is not incompatible with roughness and toughness", "(B) Because the Skipper considered himself smarter and more experienced than the new cook.", "(D) He realized by surrendering, the Alliance could use their ship to sneak into Federation territory unnoticed.", "(D) The Skipper's would have set course for Iris from the beginning.", "(A) He didn't"], "input": "CAPTAIN CHAOS \n\n   By NELSON S. BOND \n\n   The Callisto-bound     Leo    needed    a cook. What it got was a piping-voiced    Jonah who jinxed it straight into Chaos. \n\n   We picked up our new cook on Phobos. Not Phoebus or Phoebe; I mean\n Phobos, Mars' inner moon. Our regular victual mangler came down with\n acute indigestion\u2014tasted some of his own cooking, no doubt\u2014when we\n were just one blast of a jet-tube out of Sand City spaceport. But since\n we were rocketing under sealed orders, we couldn't turn back. \n\n   So we laid the     Leo    down on Phobos' tiny cradle-field and bundled\n our ailing grub-hurler off to a hospital, and the skipper said to me,\n \"Mister Dugan,\" he said, \"go out and find us a cook!\" \n\n   \"Aye, sir!\" I said, and went. \n\n   Only it wasn't that easy. In those days, Phobos had only a handful\n of settlers, and most of them had good-paying jobs. Besides, we were\n at war with the Outer Planets, and no man in his right senses wanted\n to sign for a single-trip jump on a rickety old patrolship bound for\n nobody-knew-where. And, of course, cooks are dime-a-dozen when you\n don't need one, but when you've got to locate one in a hurry they're as\n difficult to find as petticoats in a nudist camp. \n\n   I tried the restaurants and the employment agencies, but it was no\n dice. I tried the hotels and the tourist homes and even one or two\n of the cleaner-looking joy-joints. Again I drew a blank. So, getting\n desperate, I audioed a plaintive appeal to the wealthy Phobosian\n colonists, asking that one of the more patriotic sons-of-riches donate\n a chef's services to the good old I.P.S., but my only response was a\n loud silence. \n\n   So I went back to the ship. I said, \"Sorry, sir. We're up against it. I\n can't seem to find a cook on the whole darned satellite.\" \n\n   The skipper scowled at me from under a corduroy brow and fumed, \"But\n we've got to have a cook, Dugan! We can't go on without one!\" \n\n   \"In a pinch,\" I told him, \"     I    might be able to boil a few pies, or\n scramble us a steak or something, Skipper.\" \n\n   \"Thanks, Dugan, but that won't do. On this trip the men must be fed\n regularly and well. Makeshift meals are O.Q. on an ordinary run, but\n when you're running the blockade\u2014\" \n\n   He stopped abruptly. But too late; I had caught his slip of the tongue.\n I stared at him. I said, \"The blockade, sir? Then you've read our\n orders?\" \n\n   The Old Man nodded soberly. \n\n   \"Yes. You might as well know, Lieutenant. Everyone will be told as soon\n as the     Leo    lifts gravs again. My orders were to be opened four hours\n after leaving Sand City. I read them a few minutes ago. \n\n   \"We are to attempt to run the Outer Planets Alliance blockade at any\n spot which reconnaisance determines as favorable. Our objective is\n Jupiter's fourth satellite, Callisto. The Solar Federation Intelligence\n Department has learned of a loyalist uprising on that moon. It is\n reported that Callisto is weary of the war, with a little prompting\n will secede from the Alliance and return to the Federation. \n\n   \"If this is true, it means we have at last found the foothold we have\n been seeking; a salient within easy striking distance of Jupiter,\n capital of the Alliance government. Our task is to verify the rumor\n and, if it be true, make a treaty with the Callistans.\" \n\n   I said, \"Sweet howling stars\u2014some assignment, sir! A chance to end\n this terrible war ... form a permanent union of the entire Solar\n family ... bring about a new age of prosperity and happiness.\" \n\n   \"If,\" Cap O'Hara reminded me, \"we succeed. But it's a tough job. We\n can't expect to win through the enemy cordon unless our men are in top\n physical condition. And that means a sound, regular diet. So we must\n find a cook, or\u2014\" \n\n   \"The search,\" interrupted an oddly high-pitched, but not unpleasant\n voice, \"is over. Where's the galley?\"  \n   I whirled, and so did the Old Man. Facing us was an outlandish little\n figure; a slim, trim, natty little Earthman not more than five-foot-two\n in height; a smooth-cheeked young fellow swaddled in a spaceman's\n uniform at least three sizes too large. Into the holster of his harness\n was thrust a Haemholtz ray-pistol big enough to burn an army, and in\n his right hand he brandished a huge, gleaming carving-knife. He frowned\n at us impatiently. \n\n   \"Well,\" he repeated impatiently, \"where is it?\" \n\n   The Old Man stared. \n\n   \"W-who,\" he demanded dazedly, \"might you be?\" \n\n   \"I might be,\" retorted the little stranger, \"lots of people. But I came\n here to be your new cook.\" \n\n   O'Hara said, \"The new\u2014What's your name, mister?\" \n\n   \"Andy,\" replied the newcomer. \"Andy Laney.\" \n\n   The Old Man's lip curled speculatively. \"Well, Andy Laney,\" he said,\n \"you don't look like much of a cook to     me    .\" \n\n   But the little mugg just returned the Old Man's gaze coolly. \"Which\n makes it even,\" he retorted. \"     You    don't look like much of a skipper\n to     me    . Do I get the job, or don't I?\" \n\n   The captain's grin faded, and his jowls turned pink. I stepped forward\n hastily. I said, \"Excuse me, sir, shall I handle this?\" Then, because\n the skipper was still struggling for words: \"You,\" I said to the little\n fellow, \"are a cook?\" \n\n   \"One of the best!\" he claimed complacently. \n\n   \"You're willing to sign for a blind journey?\" \n\n   \"Would I be here,\" he countered, \"if I weren't?\" \n\n   \"And you have your space certificate?\" \n\n   \"I\u2014\" began the youngster. \n\n   \"Smart Aleck!\" That was the Old Man, exploding into coherence at last.\n \"Rat-tailed, clever-cracking little smart Aleck! Don't look like much\n of a skipper, eh? Well, my fine young rooster\u2014\" \n\n   I said quickly, \"If you don't mind, sir, this is no time to worry over\n trifles. 'Any port in a storm,' you know. And if this young man     can    cook\u2014\" \n\n   The skipper's color subsided. So did he, grumbling. \"Well, perhaps\n you're right, Dugan. All right, Slops, you're hired. The galley's\n on the second level, port side. Mess in three quarters of an\n hour. Get going! Dugan, call McMurtrie and tell him we lift gravs\n immediately\u2014     Slops!    What are you doing at that table?\" \n\n   For the little fellow had sidled across the control-room and now, eyes\n gleaming inquisitively, was peering at our trajectory charts. At the\n skipper's roar he glanced up at us eagerly. \n\n   \"Vesta!\" he piped in that curiously high-pitched and mellow voice.\n \"Loft trajectory for Vesta! Then we're trying to run the Alliance\n blockade, Captain?\" \n\n   \"None of your business!\" bellowed O'Hara in tones of thunderous\n outrage. \"Get below instantly, or by the lavendar lakes of Luna I'll\u2014\" \n\n   \"If I were you,\" interrupted our diminutive new chef thoughtfully, \"I'd\n try to broach the blockade off Iris rather than Vesta. For one thing,\n their patrol line will be thinner there; for another, you can come in\n through the Meteor Bog, using it as a cover.\" \n\n   \"     Mr. Dugan!    \" \n\n   The Old Man's voice had an ominous ring to it, one I had seldom heard.\n I sprang to attention and saluted smartly. \"Aye, sir?\" \n\n   \"Take this\u2014this culinary tactician out of my sight before I forget I'm\n an officer and a gentleman. And tell him that when I want advice I'll\n come down to the galley for it!\" \n\n   A hurt look crept into the youngster's eyes. Slowly he turned and\n followed me from the turret, down the ramp, and into the pan-lined\n cubicle which was his proper headquarters. When I was turning to leave\n he said apologetically, \"I didn't mean any harm, Mr. Dugan. I was just\n trying to help.\" \n\n   \"You must learn not to speak out of turn, youngster,\" I told him\n sternly. \"The Old Man's one of the smartest space navigators who ever\n lifted gravs. He doesn't need the advice or suggestions of a cook.\" \n\n   \"But I was raised in the Belt,\" said the little chap plaintively. \"I\n know the Bog like a book. And I was right; our safest course     is    by\n way of Iris.\" \n\n   Well, there you are! You try to be nice to someone, and what happens?\n He tees off on you. I got a little sore I guess. Anyhow, I told the\n little squirt off, but definitely. \n\n   \"Now, listen!\" I said bluntly. \"You volunteered for the job. Now\n you've got to take what comes with it: orders! From now on, suppose\n you take care of the cooking and let the rest of us worry about the\n ship\u2014Captain Slops!\" \n\n   And I left, banging the door behind me hard.  \n   So we hit the spaceways for Vesta, and after a while the Old Man called\n up the crew and told them our destination, and if you think they were\n scared or nervous or anything like that, why, you just don't know\n spacemen. From oil-soaked old Jock McMurtrie, the Chief Engineer, all\n the way down the line to Willy, our cabin-boy, the     Leo's    complement\n was as thrilled as a sub-deb at an Academy hop. \n\n   John Wainwright, our First Officer, licked his chops like a fox in a\n hen-house and said, \"The blockade! Oboyoboy! Maybe we'll tangle with\n one of the Alliance ships, hey?\" \n\n   Blinky Todd, an ordinary with highest rating, said with a sort of\n macabre satisfaction, \"I hopes we     do    meet up with 'em, that's whut I\n does, sir! Never did have no love for them dirty, skulkin' Outlanders,\n that's whut I didn't!\" \n\n   And one of the black-gang blasters, a taciturn chap, said nothing\u2014but\n the grim set of his jaw and the purposeful way he spat on his callused\n paws were mutely eloquent. \n\n   Only one member of the crew was absent from the conclave. Our new\n Slops. He was busy preparing midday mess, it seems, because scarcely\n had the skipper finished talking than the audio hummed and a cheerful\n call rose from the galley: \n\n   \"Soup's on! Come and get it!\" \n\n   Which we did. And whatever failings \"Captain Slops\" might have, he\n had not exaggerated when he called himself one of the best cooks in\n space. That meal, children, was a meal! When it comes to victuals\n I can destroy better than describe, but there was stuff and things\n and such-like, all smothered in gravy and so on, and huge quantities\n of this and that and the other thing, all of them unbelievably\n dee-luscious! \n\n   Beyond a doubt it was the finest feast we of the     Leo    had enjoyed in\n a 'coon's age. Even the Old Man admitted that as, leaning back from\n the table, he patted the pleasant bulge due south of his belt buckle.\n He rang the bell that summoned Slops from the galley, and the little\n fellow came bustling in apprehensively. \n\n   \"Was everything all right, sir?\" he asked. \n\n   \"Not only all right, Slops,\" wheezed Captain O'Hara, \"but perfect!\n Accept my congratulations on a superb meal, my boy. Did you find\n everything O.Q. in the galley?\" \n\n   \"Captain Slops\" blushed like a stereo-struck school-gal, and fidgeted\n from one foot to another. \n\n   \"Oh, thank you, sir! Thank you very much. Yes, the galley was in fine\n order. That is\u2014\" He hesitated\u2014\"there is one little thing, sir.\" \n\n   \"So? Well, speak up, son, what is it? I'll get it fixed for you right\n away.\" The Old Man smiled archly. \"Must have everything shipshape for a\n tip-top chef, what?\" \n\n   The young hash-slinger still hesitated bashfully. \n\n   \"But it's such a     little    thing, sir, I almost hate to bother you with\n it.\" \n\n   \"No trouble at all. Just say the word.\" \n\n   \"Well, sir,\" confessed Slops reluctantly, \"I need an incinerator in\n the galley. The garbage-disposal system in there now is old-fashioned,\n inconvenient and unsanitary. You see, I have to carry the waste down\n two levels to the rocket-chamber in order to expel it.\" \n\n   The skipper's brow creased. \n\n   \"I'm sorry, Slops,\" he said, \"but I don't see how we can do anything\n about that. Not just now, at any rate. That job requires equipment we\n don't have aboard. After this jump is over I'll see what I can do.\" \n\n   \"Oh, I realize we don't have the regular equipment,\" said Slops shyly,\n \"but I've figured out a way to get the same effect with equipment we\n do have. There's an old Nolan heat-cannon rusting in the storeroom.\n If that could be installed by the galley vent, I could use it as an\n incinerator.\" \n\n   I said, \"Hold everything, Slops! You can't do that! It's against\n regulations. Code 44, Section xvi, says, 'Fixed armament shall be\n placed only in gunnery embrasures insulated against the repercussions\n of firing charges, re-radiation, or other hazards accruent to heavy\n ordnance.'\" \n\n   Our little chef's face fell. \"Now, that's too bad,\" he said\n discouragedly. \"I was planning a special banquet for tomorrow, with\n roast marsh-duck and all the fixings, pinberry pie\u2014but, oh, well!\u2014if\n I have no incinerator\u2014\" \n\n   The skipper's eyes bulged, and he drooled like a pup at a barbeque.\n He was a bit of a sybarite, was Captain David O'Hara; if there was\n anything he dearly loved to exercise his molars on it was Venusian\n marsh-duck topped with a dessert of Martian pinberry pie. He said: \n\n   \"We-e-ell, now, Mr. Dugan, let's not be too technical. After all, that\n rule was put in the book only to prevent persons which shouldn't ought\n to do so from having control of ordnance. But that isn't what Slops\n wants the cannon for, is it, son? So I don't see any harm in rigging\n up the old Nolan in the galley for incineration purposes. Did you say     all    the fixings, Slops?\" \n\n   Maybe I was mistaken, but for a moment I suspected I caught a queer\n glint in our little chef's eyes; it might have been gratitude, or, on\n the other hand, it might have been self-satisfaction. Whatever it was\n it passed quickly, and Captain Slops' soft voice was smooth as silk\n when he said: \n\n   \"Yes, Captain, all the fixings. I'll start cooking the meal as soon as\n the new incinerator is installed.\"  \n   So that was that. During the night watch two men of the crew lugged\n the ancient Nolan heat cannon from stores and I went below to check. I\n found young Slops bent over the old cannon, giving it a strenuous and\n thorough cleaning. The way he was oiling and scrubbing at that antique\n reminded me of an apprentice gunner coddling his first charge. \n\n   I must have startled him, entering unexpectedly as I did, for when I\n said, \"Hi, there!\" he jumped two feet and let loose a sissy little\n piping squeal. Then, crimson-faced with embarrassment, he said, \"Oh,\n h-hello, Lieutenant. I was just getting my new incinerator shipshape.\n Looks O.Q., eh?\" \n\n   \"If you ask me,\" I said, \"it looks downright lethal. The Old Man must\n be off his gravs to let a young chuckle-head like you handle that toy.\" \n\n   \"But I'm only going to use it,\" he said plaintively, \"to dispose of\n garbage.\" \n\n   \"Well, don't dump your cans when there are any ships within range,\" I\n warned him glumly, \"or there'll be a mess of human scraps littering up\n the void. That gun may be a museum piece, but it still packs a wallop.\" \n\n   \"Yes, sir,\" said Slops meekly. \"I'll be careful how I use it, sir.\" \n\n   I had finished my inspection, and I sniggered as his words reminded me\n of a joke I'd heard at a spacemans' smoker. \n\n   \"Speaking of being careful, did you hear the giggler about the old maid\n at the Martian baths? Well, it seems this perennial spinster wandered,\n by accident, into the men's shower room and met up with a brawny young\n prospector\u2014\" \n\n   Captain Slops said, \"Er\u2014excuse me, Lieutenant, but I have to get this\n marsh-duck stuffed.\" \n\n   \"Plenty of time, Slops. Wait till you hear this; it will kill you. The\n old maid got flustered and said, 'Oh, I'm sorry! I must be in the wrong\n compartment\u2014'\" \n\n   \"If you don't mind, Mr. Dugan,\" interrupted the cook loudly, \"I'm\n awfully busy. I don't have any time for\u2014\" \n\n   \"The prospector looked her over carefully for a couple of seconds; then\n answered, 'That's O.Q. by me, sister. I won't\u2014'\" \n\n   \"I\u2014I've got to go now, Lieutenant,\" shouted Slops. \"Just remembered\n something I've got to get from stores.\" And without even waiting to\n hear the wallop at the end of my tale he fled from the galley, very\n pink and flustered. \n\n   So there was one for the log-book! Not only did our emergency chef lack\n a sense of humor, but the little punk was bashful, as well! Still, it\n was no skin off my nose if Slops wanted to miss the funniest yarn of a\n decade. I shrugged and went back to the control turret.  \n   All that, to make an elongated story brief, happened on the first day\n out of Mars. As any schoolchild knows, it's a full hundred million from\n the desert planet to the asteroid belt. In those days, there was no\n such device as a Velocity-Intensifier unit, and the     Leo    , even though\n she was then considered a reasonably fast little patroller, muddled\n along at a mere 400,000 m.p.h. Which meant it would take us at least\n ten days, perhaps more, to reach that disputed region of space around\n Vesta, where the Federation outposts were sparse and the Alliance block\n began. \n\n   That period of jetting was a mingled joy and pain in the britches.\n Captain Slops was responsible for both. \n\n   For one thing, as I've hinted before, he was a bit of a panty-waist.\n It wasn't so much the squeaky voice or the effeminate gestures he cut\n loose with from time to time. One of the roughest, toughest scoundrels\n who ever cut a throat on Venus was \"High G\" Gordon, who talked like a\n boy soprano, and the meanest pirate who ever highjacked a freighter was\n \"Runt\" Hake\u2014who wore diamond ear-rings and gold fingernail polish! \n\n   But it was Slops' general attitude that isolated him from the command\n and crew. In addition to being a most awful prude, he was a kill-joy.\n When just for a lark we begged him to boil us a pot of spaghetti, so we\n could pour a cold worm's nest into Rick Bramble's bed, he shuddered and\n refused. \n\n   \"Certainly not!\" he piped indignantly. \"You must be out of your minds!\n I never heard of such a disgusting trick! Of course, I won't be a party\n to it. Worms\u2014Ugh!\" \n\n   \"Yeah!\" snorted Johnny Wainwright disdainfully, \"And     ugh!    to you,\n too. Come on, Joe, let's get out of here before we give Slops bad\n dreams and goose-flesh!\" \n\n   Nor was hypersensitiveness Slops' worst failing. If he was squeamish\n about off-color jokes and such stuff, he had no compunctions whatsoever\n against sticking his nose in where it didn't belong. \n\n   He was an inveterate prowler. He snooped everywhere and anywhere from\n ballast-bins to bunk-rooms. He quizzed the Chief about engine-room\n practices, the gunner's mate on problems of ballistics, even the\n cabin-boy on matters of supplies and distribution of same. He was not\n only an asker; he was a teller, as well. More than once during the next\n nine days he forced on the skipper the same gratuitous advice which\n before had enraged the Old Man. By sheer perseverance he earned the\n title I had tagged him with: \"Captain Slops.\" \n\n   I was willing to give him another title, too\u2014Captain Chaos. God knows\n he created enough of it! \n\n   \"It's a mistake to broach the blockade at Vesta,\" he argued over and\n over again. \n\n   \"O.Q., Slops,\" the skipper would nod agreeably, with his mouth full\n of some temper-softening tidbit, \"you're right and I'm wrong, as you\n usually are. But I'm in command of the     Leo    , and you ain't. Now, run\n along like a good lad and bring me some more of this salad.\" \n\n   So ten days passed, and it was on the morning of the eleventh day out\n of Sand City that we ran into trouble with a capital trub. I remember\n that morning well, because I was in the mess-hall having breakfast with\n Cap O'Hara, and Slops was playing another variation on the old familiar\n theme. \n\n   \"I glanced at the chart this morning, sir,\" he began as he minced in\n with a platterful of golden flapjacks and an ewer of Vermont maple\n syrup, \"and I see we are but an hour or two off Vesta. I am very much\n afraid this is our last chance to change course\u2014\" \n\n   \"And for that,\" chuckled the Old Man, \"Hooray! Pass them pancakes, son.\n Maybe now you'll stop shooting off about how we ought to of gone by way\n of Iris. Mmmm! Good!\" \n\n   \"Thank you, sir,\" said Slops mechanically. \"But you realize there is\n extreme danger of encountering enemy ships?\" \n\n   \"Keep your pants on, Slops!\" \n\n   \"Eh?\" The chef looked startled. \"Beg pardon, sir?\" \n\n   \"I said keep your pants on. Sure, I know. And I've took precautions.\n There's a double watch on duty, and men at every gun. If we do meet up\n with an Alliance craft, it'll be just too bad for them! \n\n   \"Yes, sirree!\" The Old Man grinned comfortably. \"I almost hope we\n do bump into one. After we burn it out of the void we'll have clear\n sailing all the way to Callisto.\" \n\n   \"But\u2014but if there should be more than one, sir?\" \n\n   \"Don't be ridiculous, my boy. Why should there be?\" \n\n   \"Well, for one thing,\" wrangled our pint-sized cook, \"because rich\n ekalastron deposits were recently discovered on Vesta. For another,\n because Vesta's orbit is now going into aphelion stage, which will\n favor a concentration of raiders.\" \n\n   The skipper choked, spluttered, and disgorged a bite of half-masticated\n pancake. \n\n   \"Eka\u2014Great balls of fire! Are you sure?\" \n\n   \"Of course, I'm sure. I told you days ago that I was born and raised in\n the Belt, Captain.\" \n\n   \"I know. But why didn't you tell me about Vesta before? I mean about\n the ekalastron deposits?\" \n\n   \"Why\u2014why, because\u2014\" said Slops. \"Because\u2014\" \n\n   \"Don't give me lady-logic, you dope!\" roared the Old Man, an enraged\n lion now, his breakfast completely forgotten. \"Give me a sensible\n answer! If you'd told me     that    instead of just yipping and yapping\n about how via Iris was a nicer route I'd have listened to you! As it\n is, we're blasting smack-dab into the face of danger. And us on the\n most vital mission of the whole ding-busted war!\" \n\n   He was out of his seat, bustling to the audio, buzzing Lieutenant\n Wainwright on the bridge. \n\n   \"Johnny\u2014that you? Listen, change traj quick! Set a new course through\n the Belt by way of Iris and the Bog, and hurry up, because\u2014\" \n\n   What reason he planned to give I do not know, for he never finished\n that sentence. At that moment the     Leo    rattled like a Model AA\n spacesled in an ionic storm, rolled, quivered and slewed like a drunk\n on a freshly-waxed floor. The motion needed no explanation; it was\n unmistakeable to any spacer who has ever hopped the blue. Our ship had\n been gripped, and was now securely locked, in the clutch of a tractor\n beam!  \n   What happened next was everything at once. Officers Wainwright and\n Bramble were in the turret, and they were both good sailors. They knew\n their duties and how to perform them. An instant after the     Leo    had\n been assaulted, the ship bucked and slithered again, this time with the\n repercussions of our own ordnance. Over the audio, which Sparks had\n hastily converted into an all-way, inter-ship communicating unit, came\n a jumble of voices. A call for Captain O'Hara to \"Come to the bridge,\n sir!\" ... the harsh query of Chief McMurtrie, \"Tractor beams on stern\n and prow, sir. Shall I attempt to break them?\" ... and a thunderous     groooom!    from the fore-gunnery port as a crew went into action ... a\n plaintive little shriek from somebody ... maybe from Slops himself.... \n\n   Then on an ultra-wave carrier, drowning local noises beneath waves of\n sheer volume, came English words spoken with a foreign intonation. The\n voice of the Alliance commander. \n\n   \"Ahoy the     Leo    ! Calling the captain of the     Leo    !\" \n\n   O'Hara, his great fists knotted at his sides, called back, \"O'Hara of\n the     Leo    answering. What do you want?\" \n\n   \"Stand by to admit a boarding party, Captain. It is futile to resist.\n You are surrounded by six armed craft, and your vessel is locked in\n our tensiles. Any further effort to make combat will bring about your\n immediate destruction!\" \n\n   From the bridge, topside, snarled Johnny Wainwright, \"The hell with\n 'em, Skipper! Let's fight it out!\" And elsewhere on the     Leo    angry\n voices echoed the same defi. Never in my life had I felt such a\n heart-warming love for and pride in my companions as at that tense\n moment. But the Old Man shook his head, and his eyes were glistening. \n\n   \"It's no use,\" he moaned strickenly, more to himself than to me. \"I\n can't sacrifice brave men in a useless cause, Dugan. I've got to\u2014\" He\n faced the audio squarely. To the enemy commander he said, \"Very good,\n sir! In accordance with the Rules of War, I surrender into your hands!\" \n\n   The firing ceased, and a stillness like that of death blanketed the     Leo    . \n\n   It was then that Andy Laney, who had lingered in the galley doorway\n like a frozen figuring, broke into babbling incredulous speech. \n\n   \"You\u2014you're giving up like this?\" he bleated. \"Is this all you're\n going to do?\" \n\n   The Old Man just looked at him, saying never a word, but that glance\n would have blistered the hide off a Mercurian steelback. I'm more\n impetuous. I turned on the little idiot vituperatively. \n\n   \"Shut up, you fool! Don't you realize there's not a thing we can do but\n surrender? Dead, we're of no earthly use to anyone. Alive, there is\n always a chance one of us may get away, bring help. We have a mission\n to fulfil, an important one. Corpses can't run errands.\" \n\n   \"But\u2014but if they take us prisoners,\" he questioned fearfully, \"what\n will they do with us?\" \n\n   \"A concentration camp somewhere. Perhaps on Vesta.\" \n\n   \"And the     Leo    ?\" \n\n   \"Who knows? Maybe they'll send it to Jupiter with a prize crew in\n command.\" \n\n   \"That's what I thought. But they mustn't be allowed to do that. We're\n marked with the Federation tricolor!\" \n\n   A sharp retort trembled on the tip of my tongue, but I never uttered\n it. Indeed, I swallowed it as comprehension dawned. There came to me\n the beginnings of respect for little Andy Laney's wisdom. He had been\n right about the danger of the Vesta route, as we had learned to our\n cost; now he was right on this other score. \n\n   The skipper got it, too. His jaw dropped. He said, \"Heaven help us,\n it's the truth! To reach Jupiter you've got to pass Callisto. If the\n Callistans saw a Federation vessel, they'd send out an emissary to\n greet it. Our secret would be discovered, Callisto occupied by the\n enemy....\" \n\n   I think he would have turned, then, and given orders to continue the\n fight even though it meant suicide for all of us. But it was too late.\n Already our lock had opened to the attackers; down the metal ramp we\n now heard the crisp cadence of invading footsteps. The door swung open,\n and the Alliance commandant stood smiling triumphantly before us.  \n", "source": "quality_raw", "evaluation": "exam"}
{"instructions": ["Why did Syme accept the mission with Tate?\n\n (A) He needed a way back to Earth\n (B) He felt he would collect a reward along the way\n (C) He respected Tate\n (D) He had no plan for his life, so he jumped on the adventure", "Why was Tate likely dejected to learn the truth about Kal-Jmar from the Martian?\n\n (A) He learned Kal-Jmar didn\u2019t contain secrets and treasures\n (B) He learned the creatures of Kal-Jmar would kill him instantly\n (C) He learned Kal-Jmar was a fictional place\n (D) He was told the Kal-Jmar dome sensed Earthling DNA and would explode his body on entry", "What did Syme intend to do when he returned to Earth?\n\n (A) Unknown\n (B) Reunite with his family\n (C) Exact revenge\n (D) Exploit the atmosphere catalyst the Martians invented", "What is the relationship like between Syme and Tate?\n\n (A) They were friendly outlaws escaping the law together\n (B) Syme was intrigued by Tate\u2019s mission and joined on\n (C) Tate came to Mars in search of Syme because of his reputation\n (D) Syme knew of Tate and used him for his ticket back to Earth", "How was it that Syme was able to best one of the Martians and escape?\n\n (A) Element of surprise\n (B) It was Tate who actually bested the Martian\n (C) Syme had the more powerful weapon\n (D) His reinforcements arrived", "How do the Martians detect Syme and Tate on the surface?\n\n (A) They have radar on the surface of Mars\n (B) They patrol on foot\n (C) It\u2019s not revealed how they detect them\n (D) They can sense rumbling from their underground caves", "How do Martians communicate among themselves?\n\n (A) Complicated Martian language that Earthlings can\u2019t decipher\n (B) Mind reading\n (C) They speak Terrestrial language\n (D) Hand signals", "If Syme weren't initially helped by Harold, what would've probably happened to him?\n\n (A) Syme would've been protected by the building's safety net.\n (B) Syme would've gotten help from someone else.\n (C) Syme would've fallen to his death.\n (D) Syme would've caught himself with his two backup harpoons.", "Of the following options, what best summarizes this story?\n\n (A) A criminal tricks a scientist into giving him resources and aid on a beautiful adventure.\n (B) A criminal forces a scientist to go on an adventure.\n (C) A criminal teams up with a scientist to explore a dangerous area.\n (D) A criminal and a scientist wind up on a fun adventure together."], "outputs": ["(B) He felt he would collect a reward along the way", "(A) He learned Kal-Jmar didn\u2019t contain secrets and treasures", "(A) Unknown", "(B) Syme was intrigued by Tate\u2019s mission and joined on", "(A) Element of surprise", "(C) It\u2019s not revealed how they detect them", "(B) Mind reading", "(C) Syme would've fallen to his death.", "(C) A criminal teams up with a scientist to explore a dangerous area."], "input": "Doorway to Kal-Jmar \n\n   By Stuart Fleming \n\n   Two men had died before Syme Rector's guns    to give him the key to the ancient city of    Kal-Jmar\u2014a city of untold wealth, and of    robots that made desires instant commands. \n\n   The tall man loitered a moment before a garish window display, his eyes\n impassive in his space-burned face, as the Lillis patrolman passed.\n Then he turned, burying his long chin in the folds of his sand cape,\n and took up the pursuit of the dark figure ahead once more. \n\n   Above, the city's multicolored lights were reflected from the\n translucent Dome\u2014a distant, subtly distorted Lillis, through which the\n stars shone dimly. \n\n   Getting through that dome had been his first urgent problem, but now he\n had another, and a more pressing one. It had been simple enough to pass\n himself off as an itinerant prospector and gain entrance to the city,\n after his ship had crashed in the Mare Cimmerium. But the rest would\n not be so simple. He had to acquire a spaceman's identity card, and he\n had to do it fast. It was only a matter of time until the Triplanet\n Patrol gave up the misleading trail he had made into the hill country,\n and concluded that he must have reached Lillis. After that, his only\n safety lay in shipping out on a freighter as soon as possible. He had\n to get off Mars, because his trail was warm, and the Patrol thorough. \n\n   They knew, of course, that he was an outlaw\u2014the very fact of the\n crashed, illegally-armed ship would have told them that. But they\n didn't know that he was Syme Rector, the most-wanted and most-feared\n raider in the System. In that was his only advantage. \n\n   He walked a little faster, as his quarry turned up a side street and\n then boarded a moving ramp to an upper level. He watched until the\n short, wide-shouldered figure in spaceman's harness disappeared over\n the top of the ramp, and then followed. \n\n   The man was waiting for him at the mouth of the ascending tunnel. \n\n   Syme looked at him casually, without a flicker of expression, and\n started to walk on, but the other stepped into his path. He was quite\n young, Syme saw, with a fighter's shoulders under the white leather,\n and a hard, determined thrust to his firm jaw. \n\n   \"All right,\" the boy said quietly. \"What is it?\" \n\n   \"I don't understand,\" Syme said. \n\n   \"The game, the angle. You've been following me. Do you want trouble?\" \n\n   \"Why, no,\" Syme told him bewilderedly. \"I haven't been following you.\n I\u2014\" \n\n   The boy knuckled his chin reflectively. \"You could be lying,\" he said\n finally. \"But maybe I've made a mistake.\" Then\u2014\"Okay, citizen, you can\n clear\u2014but don't let me catch you on my tail again.\" \n\n   Syme murmured something and turned away, feeling the spaceman's eyes\n on the small of his back until he turned the corner. At the next\n street he took a ramp up, crossed over and came down on the other side\n a block away. He waited until he saw the boy's broad figure pass the\n intersection, and then followed again more cautiously. \n\n   It was risky, but there was no other way. The signatures, the data,\n even the photograph on the card could be forged once Syme got his hands\n on it, but the identity card itself\u2014that oblong of dark diamondite,\n glowing with the tiny fires of radioactivity\u2014that could not be\n imitated, and the only way to get it was to kill. \n\n   Up ahead was the Founders' Tower, the tallest building in Lillis. The\n boy strode into the entrance lobby, bought a ticket for the observation\n platform, and took the elevator. As soon as his car was out of sight in\n the transparent tube, Syme followed. He put a half-credit slug into the\n machine, took the punctured slip of plastic that came out. The ticket\n went into a scanning slot in the wall of the car, and the elevator\n whisked him up.  \n   The tower was high, more than a hundred meters above the highest level\n of the city, and the curved dome that kept air in Lillis was close\n overhead. Syme looked up, after his first appraising glance about the\n platform, and saw the bright-blue pinpoint of Earth. The sight stirred\n a touch of nostalgia in him, as it always did, but he put it aside. \n\n   The boy was hunched over the circular balustrade a little distance\n away. Except for him, the platform was empty. Syme loosened his slim,\n deadly energy pistol in its holster and padded catlike toward the\n silent figure. \n\n   It was over in a minute. The boy whirled as he came up, warned by\n some slight sound, or by the breath of Syme's passage in the still\n air. He opened his mouth to shout, and brought up his arm in a swift,\n instinctive gesture. But the blow never landed. Syme's pistol spat its\n silent white pencil of flame, and the boy crumpled to the floor with a\n minute, charred hole in the white leather over his chest.      Syme stooped over him swiftly, found a thick wallet and thrust it into\n his pocket without a second glance. Then he raised the body in his arms\n and thrust it over the parapet. \n\n   It fell, and in the same instant Syme felt a violent tug at his wrist.\n Before he could move to stop himself, he was over the edge. Too late,\n he realized what had happened\u2014one of the hooks on the dead spaceman's\n harness had caught the heavy wristband of his chronometer. He was\n falling, linked to the body of his victim! \n\n   Hardly knowing what he did, he lashed out wildly with his other arm,\n felt his fingertips catch and bite into the edge of the balustrade. His\n body hit the wall of the tower with a thump, and, a second later, the\n corpse below him hit the wall. Then they both hung there, swaying a\n little and Syme's fingers slipped a little with each motion. \n\n   Gritting his teeth, he brought the magnificent muscles of his arm into\n play, raising the forearm against the dead weight of the dangling body.\n Fraction by slow fraction of an inch, it came up. Syme could feel the\n sweat pouring from his brow, running saltily into his eyes. His arms\n felt as if they were being torn from their sockets. Then the hook\n slipped free, and the tearing, unbearable weight vanished. \n\n   The reaction swung Syme against the building again, and he almost\n lost his slippery hold on the balustrade. After a moment he heard the\n spaceman's body strike with a squashy thud, somewhere below. \n\n   He swung up his other arm, got a better grip on the balustrade. He\n tried cautiously to get a leg up, but the motion loosened his hold on\n the smooth surface again. He relaxed, thinking furiously. He could hold\n on for another minute at most; then it was the final blast-off. \n\n   He heard running footsteps, and then a pale face peered over the ledge\n at him. He realized suddenly that the whole incident could have taken\n only a few seconds. He croaked, \"Get me up.\" \n\n   Wordlessly, the man clasped thin fingers around his wrist. The other\n pulled, with much puffing and panting, and with his help Syme managed\n to get a leg over the edge and hoist his trembling body to safety. \n\n   \"Are you all right?\"  \n   Syme looked at the man, nursing the tortured muscles of his arms. His\n rescuer was tall and thin, of indeterminate age. He had light, sandy\n hair, a sharp nose, and\u2014oddly conflicting\u2014pale, serious eyes and a\n humorous wide mouth. He was still panting. \n\n   \"I'm not hurt,\" Syme said. He grinned, his white teeth flashing in his\n dark, lean face. \"Thanks for giving me a hand.\" \n\n   \"You scared hell out of me,\" said the man. \"I heard a thud. I\n thought\u2014you'd gone over.\" He looked at Syme questioningly. \n\n   \"That was my bag,\" the outlaw said quickly. \"It slipped out of my hand,\n and I overbalanced myself when I grabbed for it.\" \n\n   The man sighed. \"I need a drink.     You    need a drink. Come on.\" He\n picked up a small black suitcase from the floor and started for the\n elevator, then stopped. \"Oh\u2014your bag. Shouldn't we do something about\n that?\" \n\n   \"Never mind,\" said Syme, taking his arm. \"The shock must have busted it\n wide open. My laundry is probably all over Lillis by now.\" \n\n   They got off at the amusement level, three tiers down, and found a\n cafe around the corner. Syme wasn't worried about the man he had just\n killed. He had heard no second thud, so the body must have stayed on\n the first outcropping of the tower it struck. It probably wouldn't be\n found until morning. \n\n   And he had the wallet. When he paid for the first round of     culcha    , he\n took it out and stole a glance at the identification card inside. There\n it was\u2014his ticket to freedom. He began feeling expansive, and even\n friendly toward the slender, mouse-like man across the table. It was\n the     culcha    , of course. He knew it, and didn't care. In the morning\n he'd find a freighter berth\u2014in as big a spaceport as Lillis, there\n were always jobs open. Meanwhile, he might as well enjoy himself, and\n it was safer to be seen with a companion than to be alone. \n\n   He listened lazily to what the other was saying, leaning his tall,\n graceful body back into the softly-cushioned seat. \n\n   \"Lissen,\" said Harold Tate. He leaned forward on one elbow, slipped,\n caught himself, and looked at the elbow reproachfully. \"Lissen,\" he\n said again, \"I trust you, Jones. You're obvi-obviously an adventurer,\n but you have an honest face. I can't see it very well at the moment,\n but I hic!\u2014pardon\u2014seem to recall it as an honest face. I'm going to\n tell you something, because I need your help!\u2014help.\" He paused. \"I\n need a guide. D'you know this part of Mars well?\" \n\n   \"Sure,\" said Syme absently. Out in the center of the floor, an AG\n plate had been turned on. Five Venusian girls were diving and twisting\n in its influence, propelling themselves by the motion of their\n delicately-webbed feet and trailing long gauzy streamers of synthesilk\n after them. Syme watched them through narrowed lids, feeling the glow\n of     culcha    inside him. \n\n   \"I wanta go to Kal-Jmar,\" said Tate. \n\n   Syme snapped to attention, every nerve tingling. An indefinable sense,\n a hunch that had served him well before, told him that something big\n was coming\u2014something that promised adventure and loot for Syme Rector.\n \"Why?\" he asked softly. \"Why to Kal-Jmar?\" \n\n   Harold Tate told him, and later, when Syme had taken him to his rooms,\n he showed him what was in his little black suitcase. Syme had been\n right; it was big.  \n   Kal-Jmar was the riddle of the Solar System. It was the only remaining\n city of the ancient Martian race\u2014the race that, legends said, had\n risen to greater heights than any other Solar culture. The machines,\n the artifacts, the records of the Martians were all there, perfectly\n preserved inside the city's bubble-like dome, after God knew how many\n thousands of years. But they couldn't be reached. \n\n   For Kal-Jmar's dome was not the thing of steelite that protected\n Lillis: it was a tenuous, globular field of force that defied analysis\n as it defied explosives and diamond drills. The field extended both\n above and below the ground, and tunneling was of no avail. No one knew\n what had happened to the Martians, whether they were the ancestors of\n the present decadent Martian race, or a different species. No one knew\n anything about them or about Kal-Jmar. \n\n   In the early days, when the conquest of Mars was just beginning, Earth\n scientists had been wild to get into the city. They had observed it\n from every angle, taken photographs of its architecture and the robots\n that still patrolled its fantastically winding streets, and then they\n had tried everything they knew to pierce the wall. \n\n   Later, however, when every unsuccessful attempt had precipitated a\n bloody uprising of the present-day Martians\u2014resulting in a rapid\n dwindling of the number of Martians\u2014the Mars Protectorate had stepped\n in and forbidden any further experiments; forbidden, in fact, any\n Earthman to go near the place. \n\n   Thus matter had stood for over a hundred years, until Harold Tate.\n Tate, a physicist, had stumbled on a field that seemed to be identical\n in properties to the Kal-Jmar dome; and what is more, he had found a\n force that would break it down. \n\n   And so he had made his first trip to Mars, and within twenty-four\n hours, by the blindest of chances, blurted out his secret to Syme\n Rector, the scourge of the spaceways, the man with a thousand credits\n on his sleek, tigerish head. \n\n   Syme's smile was not tigerish now; it was carefully, studiedly mild.\n For Tate was no longer drunk, and it was important that it should not\n occur to him that he had been indiscreet. \n\n   \"This is native territory we're coming to, Harold,\" he said. \"Better\n strap on your gun.\" \n\n   \"Why. Are they really dangerous?\" \n\n   \"They're unpredictable,\" Syme told him. \"They're built differently, and\n they think differently. They breathe like us, down in their caverns\n where there's air, but they also eat sand, and get their oxygen that\n way.\" \n\n   \"Yes, I've heard about that,\" Tate said. \"Iron oxide\u2014very interesting\n metabolism.\" He got his energy pistol out of the compartment and\n strapped it on absently. \n\n   Syme turned the little sand car up a gentle rise towards the tortuous\n hill country in the distance. \"Not only that,\" he continued. \"They\n eat the damndest stuff. Lichens and fungi and tumble-grass off the\n deserts\u2014all full of deadly poisons, from arsenic up the line to\n xopite. They seem intelligent enough\u2014in their own way\u2014but they never\n come near our cities and they either can't or won't learn Terrestrial.\n When the first colonists came here, they had to learn     their    crazy\n language. Every word of it can mean any one of a dozen different\n things, depending on the inflection you give it. I can speak it some,\n but not much. Nobody can. We don't think the same.\" \n\n   \"So you think they might attack us?\" Tate asked again, nervously. \n\n   \"They     might    do anything,\" Syme said curtly. \"Don't worry about it.\" \n\n   The hills were much closer than they had seemed, because of Mars'\n deceptively low horizon. In half an hour they were in the midst of a\n wilderness of fantastically eroded dunes and channels, laboring on\n sliding treads up the sides of steep hills only to slither down again\n on the other side.  \n   Syme stopped the car abruptly as a deep, winding channel appeared\n across their path. \"Gully,\" he announced. \"Shall we cross it, or follow\n it?\" \n\n   Tate peered through the steelite nose of the car. \"Follow, I guess,\"\n he offered. \"It seems to go more or less where we're going, and if we\n cross it we'll only come to a couple dozen more.\" \n\n   Syme nodded and moved the sand car up to the edge of the gully. Then he\n pressed a stud on the control board; a metal arm extruded from the tail\n of the car and a heavy spike slowly unscrewed from it, driving deep\n into the sand. A light on the board flashed, indicating that the spike\n was in and would bear the car's weight, and Syme started the car over\n the edge. \n\n   As the little car nosed down into the gully, the metal arm left behind\n revealed itself to be attached to a length of thick, very strong wire\n cable, with a control cord inside. They inched down the almost vertical\n incline, unreeling the cable behind them, and starting minor landslides\n as they descended. \n\n   Finally they touched bottom. Syme pressed another stud, and above, the\n metal spike that had supported them screwed itself out of the ground\n again and the cable reeled in. \n\n   Tate had been watching with interest. \"Very ingenious,\" he said. \"But\n how do we get up again?\" \n\n   \"Most of these gullies peter out gradually,\" said Syme, \"but if we want\n or have to climb out where it's deep, we have a little harpoon gun that\n shoots the anchor up on top.\" \n\n   \"Good. I shouldn't like to stay down here for the rest of my\n natural life. Depressing view.\" He looked up at the narrow strip of\n almost-black sky visible from the floor of the gully, and shook his\n head. \n\n   Neither Syme nor Tate ever had a chance to test the efficiency of their\n harpoon gun. They had traveled no more than five hundred meters, and\n the gully was as deep as ever, when Tate, looking up, saw a deeper\n blackness blot out part of the black sky directly overhead. He shouted,\n \"Look out!\" and grabbed for the nearest steering lever. \n\n   The car wheeled around in a half circle and ran into the wall of the\n gully. Syme was saying, \"What\u2014?\" when there was a thunderous crash\n that shook the sturdy walls of the car, as a huge boulder smashed into\n the ground immediately to their left. \n\n   When the smoky red dust had cleared away, they saw that the left tread\n of the sand car was crushed beyond all recognition. \n\n   Syme was cursing slowly and steadily with a deep, seething anger. Tate\n said, \"I guess we walk from here on.\" Then he looked up again and\n caught a glimpse of the horde of beasts that were rushing up the gully\n toward them. \n\n   \"My God!\" he said. \"What are those?\" \n\n   Syme looked. \"Those,\" he said bitterly, \"are Martians.\" \n\n   The natives, like all Martian fauna, were multi-legged. Also like all\n Martian fauna, they moved so fast that you couldn't see how many legs\n they did have. Actually, however, the natives had six legs apiece\u2014or,\n more properly, four legs and two arms. Their lungs were not as large\n as they appeared, being collapsed at the moment. What caused the bulge\n that made their torsos look like sausages was a huge air bladder, with\n a valve arrangement from the stomach and feeding directly into the\n bloodstream. \n\n   Their faces were vaguely canine, but the foreheads were high, and the\n lips were not split. They did resemble dogs, in that their thick black\n fur was splotched with irregulate patches of white. These patches of\n white were subject to muscular control and could be spread out fanwise;\n or, conversely, the black could be expanded to cover the white, which\n helped to take care of the extremes of Martian temperature. Right now\n they were mostly black. \n\n   The natives slowed down and spread out to surround the wrecked sand\n car, and it could be seen that most of them were armed with spears,\n although some had the slim Benson energy guns\u2014strictly forbidden to\n Martians. \n\n   Syme stopped cursing and watched tensely. Tate said nothing, but he\n swallowed audibly. \n\n   One Martian, who looked exactly like all the rest, stepped forward and\n motioned unmistakably for the two to come out. He waited a moment and\n then gestured with his energy gun. That gun, Syme knew from experience,\n could burn through a small thickness of steelite if held on the same\n spot long enough.  \n   \"Come on,\" Syme said grimly. He rose and reached for a pressure suit,\n and Tate followed him. \n\n   \"What do you think they'll\u2014\" he began, and then stopped himself. \"I\n know. They're unpredictable.\" \n\n   \"Yeah,\" said Syme, and opened the door. The air in the car     whooshed    into the near-vacuum outside, and he and Tate stepped out. \n\n   The Martian leader looked at them enigmatically, then turned and\n started off. The other natives closed in on them, and they all bounded\n along under the weak gravity. \n\n   They bounded along for what Syme figured as a good kilometer and a\n half, and they then reached a branch in the gully and turned down\n it, going lower all the time. Under the light of their helmet lamps,\n they could see the walls of the gully\u2014a tunnel, now\u2014getting darker\n and more solid. Finally, when Syme estimated they were about nine\n kilometers down, there was even a suggestion of moisture. \n\n   The tunnel debouched at last into a large cavern. There was a\n phosphorescent gleam from fungus along the walls, but Syme couldn't\n decide how far away the far wall was. He noticed something else, though. \n\n   \"There's air here,\" he said to Tate. \"I can see dust motes in it.\" He\n switched his helmet microphone from radio over to the audio membrane\n on the outside of the helmet. \"     Kalis methra    ,\" he began haltingly,\n \"     seltin guna getal.    \" \n\n   \"Yes, there is air here,\" said the Martian leader, startlingly. \"Not\n enough for your use, however, so do not open your helmets.\" \n\n   Syme swore amazedly. \n\n   \"I thought you said they didn't speak Terrestrial,\" Tate said. Syme\n ignored him. \n\n   \"We had our reasons for not doing so,\" the Martian said. \n\n   \"But how\u2014?\" \n\n   \"We are telepaths, of course. On a planet which is nearly airless on\n its surface, we have to be. A tendency of the Terrestrial mind is to\n ignore the obvious. We have not had a spoken language of our own for\n several thousand years.\" \n\n   He darted a glance at Syme's darkly scowling face. His own hairy face\n was expressionless, but Syme sensed that he was amused. \"Yes, you're\n right,\" he said. \"The language you and your fellows struggled to learn\n is a fraud, a hodge-podge concocted to deceive you.\" \n\n   Tate looked interested. \"But why this\u2014this gigantic masquerade?\" \n\n   \"You had nothing to give us,\" the Martian said simply. \n\n   Tate frowned, then flushed. \"You mean you avoided revealing yourselves\n because you\u2014had nothing to gain from mental intercourse with us?\" \n\n   \"Yes.\" \n\n   Tate thought again. \"But\u2014\" \n\n   \"No,\" the Martian interrupted him, \"revealing the extent of our\n civilization would have spared us nothing at your people's hands. Yours\n is an imperialist culture, and you would have had Mars, whether you\n thought you were taking it from equals or not.\" \n\n   \"Never mind that,\" Syme broke in impatiently. \"What do you want with\n us?\" \n\n   The Martian looked at him appraisingly. \"You already suspect.\n Unfortunately, you must die.\"  \n   It was a weird situation, Syme thought. His mind was racing, but as yet\n he could see no way out. He began to wonder, if he did, could he keep\n the Martians from knowing about it? Then he realized that the Martian\n must have received that thought, too, and he was enraged. He stood,\n holding himself in check with an effort. \n\n   \"Will you tell us why?\" Tate asked. \n\n   \"You were brought here for that purpose. It is part of our conception\n of justice. I will tell you and your\u2014friend\u2014anything you wish to\n know.\" \n\n   Syme noticed that the other Martians had retired to the farther side of\n the cavern. Some were munching the glowing fungus. That left only the\n leader, who was standing alertly on all fours a short distance away\n from them, holding the Benson gun trained on them. Syme tried not to\n think about the gun, especially about making a grab for it. It was like\n trying not to think of the word \"hippopotamus.\" \n\n   Tate squatted down comfortably on the floor of the cavern, apparently\n unconcerned, but his hands were trembling slightly. \"First why\u2014\" he\n began. \n\n   \"There are many secrets in Kal-Jmar,\" the Martian said, \"among them a\n very simple catalyzing agent which could within fifty years transform\n Mars to a planet with Terrestrially-thick atmosphere.\" \n\n   \"I think I see,\" Tate said thoughtfully. \"That's been the ultimate aim\n all along, but so far the problem has us licked. If we solved it, then\n we'd have all of Mars, not just the cities. Your people would die out.\n You couldn't have that, of course.\" \n\n   He sighed deeply. He spread his gloved hands before him and looked\n at them with a queer intentness. \"Well\u2014how about the Martians\u2014the\n Kal-Jmar Martians, I mean? I'd dearly love to know the answer to that\n one.\" \n\n   \"Neither of the alternatives in your mind is correct. They were not a\n separate species, although they were unlike us. But they were not our\n ancestors, either. They were the contemporaries of our ancestors.\" \n\n   \"Several thousand years ago Mars' loss of atmosphere began to make\n itself felt. There were two ways out. Some chose to seal themselves\n into cities like Kal-Jmar; our ancestors chose to adapt their bodies to\n the new conditions. Thus the race split. Their answer to the problem\n was an evasion; they remained static. Our answer was the true one, for\n we progressed. We progressed beyond the need of science; they remained\n its slaves. They died of a plague\u2014and other causes. \n\n   \"You see,\" he finished gently, \"our deception has caused a natural\n confusion in your minds. They were the degenerates, not we.\" \n\n   \"And yet,\" Tate mused, \"you are being destroyed by contact with\n an\u2014inferior\u2014culture.\" \n\n   \"We hope to win yet,\" the Martian said. \n\n   Tate stood up, his face very white. \"Tell me one thing,\" he begged.\n \"Will our two races ever live together in amity?\" \n\n   The Martian lowered his head. \"That is for unborn generations.\" He\n looked at Tate again and aimed the energy gun. \"You are a brave man,\"\n he said. \"I am sorry.\" \n\n   Syme saw all his hopes of treasure and glory go glimmering down the\n sights of the Martian's Benson gun, and suddenly the pent-up rage in\n him exploded. Too swiftly for his intention to be telegraphed, before\n he knew himself what he meant to do, he hurled himself bodily into the\n Martian.  \n   It was like tangling with a draft horse. The Martian was astonishingly\n strong. Syme scrambled desperately for the gun, got it, but couldn't\n tear it out of the Martian's fingers. And all the time he could almost\n feel the Martian's telepathic call for help surging out. He heard the\n swift pad of his followers coming across the cavern. \n\n   He put everything he had into one mighty, murderous effort. Every\n muscle fiber in his superbly trained body crackled and surged with\n power. He roared his fury. And the gun twisted out of the Martian's\n iron grip! \n\n   He clubbed the prostrate leader with it instantly, then reversed the\n weapon and snapped a shot at the nearest Martian. The creature dropped\n his lance and fell without a sound. \n\n   The next instant a ray blinked at him, and he rolled out of the way\n barely in time. The searing ray cut a swath over the leader's body and\n swerved to cut down on him. Still rolling, he fired at the holder of\n the weapon. The gun dropped and winked out on the floor. \n\n   Syme jumped to his feet and faced his enemies, snarling like the\n trapped tiger he was. Another ray slashed at him, and he bent lithely\n to let it whistle over his head. Another, lower this time. He flipped\n his body into the air and landed upright, his gun still blazing. His\n right leg burned fiercely from a ray-graze, but he ignored it. And\n all the while he was mowing down the massed natives in great swaths,\n seeking out the ones armed with Bensons in swift, terrible slashes,\n dodging spears and other missiles in midair, and roaring at the top of\n his powerful lungs. \n\n   At last there were none with guns left to oppose him. He scythed down\n the rest in two terrible, lightning sweeps of his ray, then dropped\n the weapon from blistered fingers. \n\n   He was gasping for breath, and realized that he was losing air from\n the seared-open right leg of his suit. He reached for the emergency\n kit at his side, drawing in great, gasping breaths, and fumbled out\n a tube of sealing liquid. He spread the stuff on liberally, smearing\n it impartially over flesh and fabric. It felt like liquid hell on the\n burned, bleeding leg, but he kept on until the quick-drying fluid\n formed an airtight patch. \n\n   Only then did he turn, to see Tate flattened against the wall behind\n him, his hands empty at his sides. \"I'm sorry,\" Tate said miserably. \"I\n could have grabbed a spear or something, but\u2014I just couldn't, not even\n to save my own life. I\u2014I halfway hoped they'd kill both of us.\" \n\n   Syme glared at him and spat, too enraged to think of diplomacy. He\n turned and strode out of the cavern, carrying his right leg stiffly,\n but with his feral, tigerish head held high. \n\n   He led the way, wordlessly, back to the wrecked sand car. Tate followed\n him with a hangdog, beaten air, as though he had just found something\n that shattered all his previous concepts of the verities in life, and\n didn't know what to do about it. \n\n   Still silently, Syme refilled his oxygen tank, watched Tate do the\n same, and then picked up two spare tanks and the precious black\n suitcase and handed one of the tanks to Tate. Then he stumped around\n to the back of the car and inspected the damage. The cable reel, which\n might have drawn them out of the gully, was hopelessly smashed. That\n was that.  \n", "source": "quality_raw", "evaluation": "exam"}
{"instructions": ["Why does the Captain decide to save Gorman?\n\n (A) He sees that they could be good business partners\n (B) Gorman is Ivy\u2019s father and she pleads to save him\n (C) He has a sense of duty to not let innocent people die\n (D) He prefers their ship to his own", "How are the events of the story best summated?\n\n (A) A delivery ship discovers and saves two other ships\n (B) A passenger ship transiting Earth - Venus accidentally starts falling into the sun\n (C) Strike\u2019s ship breaks down and has to be rescued from being pulled into the sun\n (D) A war ship disguised as a cargo ship changes course and saves lives from pulling into sun\u2019s gravity", "How do Cob and Strike come to appreciate women of rank through the story?\n\n (A) They vow to have more women working in their teams\n (B) They choose to work on Aphrodite permanently\n (C) Their minds aren\u2019t changed \n (D) They take on understudies to further promote equality", "What is the relationship like between Strike and Cob?\n\n (A) They have known each other through their last assignment\n (B) They meet during the course of the story and become easy friends\n (C) They meet during the course of the story, but begin apprehensive of each other\n (D) They never actually meet in the story", "Why is a day 720 hours long?\n\n (A) The day length is set such that their mission only takes one day to increase morale\n (B) Day length is dependent on the solar system the ship is in\n (C) A day is equivalent to a month at the speed they travel\n (D) It\u2019s not known", "What is the general mood during space flight aboard the Aphrodite?\n\n (A) Many things are going wrong\n (B) It got very cold on the ship when the generators went out, ruining morale\n (C) The crew mutinies under the leadership of the Captain\n (D) The trip is smooth sailing", "How many return trips does Aphrodite complete during the story?\n\n (A) Zero\n (B) Two \n (C) One\n (D) Three", "What convinces the Captain to have confidence in I.V. Hendricks?\n\n (A) The Captain never gains confidence in Hendricks\n (B) The Captain always believed in her abilities due to her excellent reputation\n (C) Hendricks\u2019 father built the ship and trained her on it\n (D) Hendricks had proven her abilities over years working with the Captain", "Does it seem like there's a romantic component to Ivy and the Captain's relationship?\n\n (A) Yes, they both show feelings for each other but they have yet to enter a relationship\n (B) Possible, Ivy has feelings for him by the end but it remains unclear\n (C) No, they're just coworkers and nothing more is addressed beyond that\n (D) Possibly, the Captain has feelings for her by the end but it remains unclear", "What is interesting about the Aphrodite?\n\n (A) It's a brand new ship\n (B) It's an old ship and its predecessors were retired after having successful runs as ships\n (C) It's an old ship and its predecessors previously failed in their missions\n (D) It's an old ship that doesn't work but contains a plethora of interesting data", "How would you describe the author's style throughout the passage?\n\n (A) He uses lots of historical data from previous science fiction universes\n (B) He uses lots of technical details and technologies to immerse the reader in the lore\n (C) He uses lots of humor to make the technical elements more entertaining\n (D) He uses lots of descriptions of the ship's surroundings to show the peaceful voyages the Aphrodite goes on", "How would you describe the changes in tone throughout the passage?\n\n (A) The story remains relatively calm except for the climax\n (B) The story has an early climax with a big reveal, but the majority of the story is nerdy and filled with space-travel details\n (C) The story is intense at the beginning but calms by the end\n (D) The story remains fast-paced and stressful throughout", "Why might a person not be the hugest fan of Captain?\n\n (A) He's actively racist with regard to his crew members\n (B) He's actively sexist with regard to his crew members\n (C) He's overconfident at times and can be rude\n (D) He doesn't listen to his crew most of the time", "Of the following options, who might want to read this passage the most?\n\n (A) A sci-fi fan who likes romance-heavy stories\n (B) A sci-fi fan who likes suspense and watching friendships grow\n (C) A fan of fantasy-adventure stories\n (D) A fan of adventure stories where the protagonist has to fit in with a new group", "Do you think this story has a happy ending?\n\n (A) No, the Captain really wants to date Ivy but it doesn't seem like it's gonna happen\n (B) Yes, the Captain is successful and he's dating Ivy\n (C) Yes, they were successful on their mission\n (D) For the most part, they succeeded on their mission but the Captain and Ivy aren't together"], "outputs": ["(C) He has a sense of duty to not let innocent people die", "(A) A delivery ship discovers and saves two other ships", "(C) Their minds aren\u2019t changed", "(B) They meet during the course of the story and become easy friends", "(D) It\u2019s not known", "(A) Many things are going wrong", "(A) Zero", "(C) Hendricks\u2019 father built the ship and trained her on it", "(D) Possibly, the Captain has feelings for her by the end but it remains unclear", "(C) It's an old ship and its predecessors previously failed in their missions", "(B) He uses lots of technical details and technologies to immerse the reader in the lore", "(A) The story remains relatively calm except for the climax", "(B) He's actively sexist with regard to his crew members", "(B) A sci-fi fan who likes suspense and watching friendships grow", "(D) For the most part, they succeeded on their mission but the Captain and Ivy aren't together"], "input": "Jinx Ship To The Rescue \n\n   By ALFRED COPPEL, JR. \n\n   Stand by for     T.R.S. Aphrodite    , butt of the Space    Navy. She's got something terrific in her guts and only    her ice-cold lady engineer can coax it out of her! \n\n   Brevet Lieutenant Commander David Farragut Strykalski III of the\n Tellurian Wing, Combined Solarian Navies, stood ankle deep in the\n viscous mud of Venusport Base and surveyed his new command with a\n jaundiced eye. The hot, slimy, greenish rain that drenched Venusport\n for two-thirds of the 720-hour day had stopped at last, but now a\n miasmic fog was rising from the surrounding swampland, rolling across\n the mushy landing ramp toward the grounded spaceship. Visibility was\n dropping fast, and soon porto-sonar sets would have to be used to find\n the way about the surface Base. It was an ordinary day on Venus. \n\n   Strike cursed Space Admiral Gorman and all his ancestors with a wealth\n of feeling. Then he motioned wearily to his companion, and together\n they sloshed through the mud toward the ancient monitor. \n\n   The scaly bulk of the Tellurian Rocket Ship     Aphrodite    loomed\n unhappily into the thick air above the two men as they reached the\n ventral valve. Strike raised reluctant eyes to the sloping flank of the\n fat spaceship. \n\n   \"It looks,\" he commented bitterly, \"like a pregnant carp.\" \n\n   Senior Lieutenant Coburn Whitley\u2014\"Cob\" to his friends\u2014nodded in\n agreement. \"That's our Lover-Girl ... old Aphrodisiac herself. The ship\n with the poison personality.\" Cob was the     Aphrodite's    Executive,\n and he had been with her a full year ... which was a record for Execs\n on the     Aphrodite    . She generally sent them Earthside with nervous\n breakdowns in half that time. \n\n   \"Tell me, Captain,\" continued Cob curiously, \"how does it happen\n that you of all people happened to draw this tub for a command? I\n thought....\" \n\n   \"You know Gorman?\" queried Strykalski. \n\n   Cob nodded. \"Oh, yes. Yes, indeed. Old Brass-bottom Gorman?\" \n\n   \"The same.\" \n\n   \"Well,\" Cob ran a hand over his chin speculatively, \"I know Gorman's\n a prize stinker ... but you were in command of the     Ganymede    . And,\n after all, you come from an old service family and all that. How come\n this?\" He indicated the monitor expressively. \n\n   Strike sighed. \"Well, now, Cob, I'll tell you. You'll be spacing with\n me and I guess you've a right to know the worst ... not that you\n wouldn't find it out anyway. I come from a long line of very sharp\n operators. Seven generations of officers and gentlemen. Lousy with\n tradition. \n\n   \"The first David Farragut Strykalski, son of a sea-loving Polish\n immigrant, emerged from World War II a four-striper and Congressional\n Medal winner. Then came David Farragut Strykalski, Jr., and, in the\n abortive Atomic War that terrified the world in 1961, he won a United\n Nations Peace Citation. And then came David Farragut Strykalski III ...\n me. \n\n   \"From such humble beginnings do great traditions grow. But something\n happened when I came into the picture. I don't fit with the rest of\n them. Call it luck or temperament or what have you. \n\n   \"In the first place I seem to have an uncanny talent for saying the\n wrong thing to the wrong person. Gorman for example. And I take too\n much on my own initiative. Gorman doesn't like that. I lost the     Ganymede    because I left my station where I was supposed to be running\n section-lines to take on a bunch of colonists I thought were in\n danger....\" \n\n   \"The Procyon A people?\" asked Cob. \n\n   \"So you've heard about it.\" Strike shook his head sadly. \"My tactical\n astrophysicist warned me that Procyon A might go nova. I left my\n routine post and loaded up on colonists.\" He shrugged. \"Wrong guess. No\n nova. I made an ass of myself and lost the     Ganymede    . Gorman gave it\n to his former aide. I got this.\" \n\n   Cob coughed slightly. \"I heard something about Ley City, too.\" \n\n   \"Me again. The     Ganymede's    whole crew ended up in the Luna Base brig.\n We celebrated a bit too freely.\" \n\n   Cob Whitley looked admiringly at his new Commander. \"That was the night\n after the     Ganymede    broke the record for the Centaurus B-Earth run,\n wasn't it? And then wasn't there something about....\" \n\n   \"Canalopolis?\" \n\n   Whitley nodded. \n\n   \"That time I called the Martian Ambassador a spy. It was at a Tellurian\n Embassy Ball.\" \n\n   \"I begin to see what you mean, Captain.\" \n\n   \"Strike's the name, Cob.\" \n\n   Whitley's smile was expansive. \"Strike, I think you're going to like\n our old tin pot here.\" He patted the     Aphrodite's    nether belly\n affectionately. \"She's old ... but she's loose. And we're not likely to\n meet any Ambassadors or Admirals with her, either.\" \n\n   Strykalski sighed, still thinking of his sleek     Ganymede    . \"She'll\n carry the mail, I suppose. And that's about all that's expected of her.\" \n\n   Cob shrugged philosophically. \"Better than tanking that stinking rocket\n fuel, anyway. Deep space?\" \n\n   Strike shook his head. \"Venus-Mars.\" \n\n   Cob scratched his chin speculatively. \"Perihelion run. Hot work.\" \n\n   Strike was again looking at the spaceship's unprepossessing exterior.\n \"A surge-circuit monitor, so help me.\" \n\n   Cob nodded agreement. \"The last of her class.\"  \n   And she was not an inspiring sight. The fantastically misnamed     Aphrodite    was a surge-circuit monitor of twenty guns built some ten\n years back in the period immediately preceding the Ionian Subjugation\n Incident. She had been designed primarily for atomics, with a\n surge-circuit set-up for interstellar flight. At least that was the\n planner's view. In those days, interstellar astrogation was in its\n formative stage, and at the time of the     Aphrodite's    launching the\n surge-circuit was hailed as the very latest in space drives. \n\n   Her designer, Harlan Hendricks, had been awarded a Legion of Merit\n for her, and every silver-braided admiral in the Fleet had dreamed\n of hoisting his flag on one of her class. There had been three. The     Artemis    , the     Andromeda    , and the prototype ... old Aphrodisiac. The\n three vessels had gone into action off Callisto after the Phobos Raid\n had set off hostilities between the Ionians and the Solarian Combine. \n\n   All three were miserable failures. \n\n   The eager officers commanding the three monitors had found the circuit\n too appealing to their hot little hands. They used it ... in some way,\n wrongly. \n\n   The     Artemis    exploded. The     Andromeda    vanished in the general\n direction of Coma Berenices glowing white hot from the heat of a\n ruptured fission chamber and spewing gamma rays in all directions.\n And the     Aphrodite's    starboard tubes blew, causing her to spend her\n store of vicious energy spinning like a Fourth of July pinwheel under\n 20 gravities until all her interior fittings ... including crew were a\n tangled, pulpy mess within her pressure hull. \n\n   The     Aphrodite    was refitted for space. And because it was an integral\n part of her design, the circuit was rebuilt ... and sealed. She became\n a workhorse, growing more cantankerous with each passing year. She\n carried personnel.... She trucked ores. She ferried skeeterboats and\n tanked rocket fuel. Now, she would carry the mail. She would lift from\n Venusport and jet to Canalopolis, Mars, without delay or variation.\n Regulations, tradition and Admiral Gorman of the Inner Planet Fleet\n required it. And it was now up to David Farragut Strykalski III to see\n to it that she did.... \n\n   The Officer of the Deck, a trim blonde girl in spotless greys saluted\n smartly as Strike and Cob stepped through the valve. \n\n   Strike felt vaguely uncomfortable. He knew, of course, that at least a\n third of the personnel on board non-combat vessels of the Inner Planet\n Fleet was female, but he had never actually had women on board a ship\n of his own, and he felt quite certain that he preferred them elsewhere. \n\n   Cob sensed his discomfort. \"That was Celia Graham, Strike. Ensign.\n Radar Officer. She's good, too.\" \n\n   Strike shook his head. \"Don't like women in space. They make me\n uncomfortable.\" \n\n   Cob shrugged. \"Celia's the only officer. But about a quarter of our\n ratings are women.\" He grinned maliciously. \"Equal rights, you know.\" \n\n   \"No doubt,\" commented the other sourly. \"Is that why they named\n this ... ship 'Aphrodite'?\" \n\n   Whitley saw fit to consider the question rhetorical and remained silent. \n\n   Strike lowered his head to clear the arch of the flying-bridge\n bulkhead. Cob followed. He trailed his Captain through a jungle\n of chrome piping to the main control panels. Strike sank into an\n acceleration chair in front of the red DANGER seal on the surge-circuit\n rheostat. \n\n   \"Looks like a drug-store fountain, doesn't it?\" commented Cob. \n\n   Strykalski nodded sadly, thinking of the padded smoothness of the     Ganymede's    flying-bridge. \"But she's home to us, anyway.\" \n\n   The thick Venusian fog had closed in around the top levels of the ship,\n hugging the ports and cutting off all view of the field outside. Strike\n reached for the squawk-box control. \n\n   \"Now hear this. All officer personnel will assemble in the flying\n bridge at 600 hours for Captain's briefing. Officer of the Deck will\n recall any enlisted personnel now on liberty....\" \n\n   Whitley was on his feet, all the slackness gone from his manner.\n \"Orders, Captain?\" \n\n   \"We can't do anything until the new Engineering Officer gets here.\n They're sending someone down from the     Antigone    , and I expect him by\n 600 hours. In the meantime you'll take over his part of the work. See\n to it that we are fueled and ready to lift ship by 602. Base will start\n loading the mail at 599:30. That's about all.\" \n\n   \"Yes, sir.\" Whitley saluted and turned to go. At the bulkhead, he\n paused. \"Captain,\" he asked, \"Who is the new E/O to be?\" \n\n   Strike stretched his long legs out on the steel deck. \"A Lieutenant\n Hendricks, I. V. Hendricks, is what the orders say.\" \n\n   Cob thought hard for a moment and then shrugged his shoulders. \"I. V.\n Hendricks.\" He shook his head. \"Don't know him.\"  \n   The other officers of the     T.R.S. Aphrodite    were in conference with\n the Captain when Cob and the girl at his side reached the flying\n bridge. She was tall and dark-haired with regular features and pale\n blue eyes. She wore a service jumper with two silver stripes on the\n shoulder-straps, and even the shapeless garment could not hide the\n obvious trimness of her figure. \n\n   Strike's back was toward the bulkhead, and he was addressing the others. \n\n   \"... and that's about the story. We are to jet within 28,000,000 miles\n of Sol. Orbit is trans-Mercurian hyperbolic. With Mars in opposition,\n we have to make a perihelion run and it won't be pleasant. But I'm\n certain this old boiler can take it. I understand the old boy who\n designed her wasn't as incompetent as they say. But Space Regs are\n specific about mail runs. This is important to you, Evans. Your\n astrogation has to be accurate to within twenty-five miles plus or\n minus the shortest route. And there'll be no breaking orbit. Now be\n certain that the refrigeration units are checked, Mister Wilkins,\n especially in the hydroponic cells. Pure air is going to be important.\" \n\n   \"That's about all there is to tell you. As soon as our rather\n leisurely E/O gets here, we can jet with Aunt Nelly's postcard.\" He\n nodded. \"That's the story. Lift ship in....\" He glanced at his wrist\n chronograph, \"... in an hour and five.\" \n\n   The officers filed out and Cob Whitley stuck his head into the room.\n \"Captain?\" \n\n   \"Come in, Cob.\" Strike's dark brows knit at the sight of the uniformed\n girl in the doorway. \n\n   Cob's face was sober, but hidden amusement was kindling behind his\n eyes. \"Captain, may I present Lieutenant Hendricks? Lieutenant     I-vy    Hendricks?\" \n\n   Strike looked blankly at the girl. \n\n   \"Our new E/O, Captain,\" prompted Whitley. \n\n   \"Uh ... welcome aboard, Miss Hendricks,\" was all the Captain could find\n to say. \n\n   The girl's eyes were cold and unfriendly. \"Thank you, Captain.\" Her\n voice was like cracked ice tinkling in a glass. \"If I may have your\n permission to inspect the drives, Captain, I     may    be able to\n convince you that the designer of this vessel was not ... as you seem\n to think ... a senile incompetent.\" \n\n   Strike was perplexed, and he showed it. \"Why, certainly ... uh ...\n Miss ... but why should you be so....\" \n\n   The girl's voice was even colder than before as she said, \"Harlan\n Hendricks, Captain, is my father.\"  \n   A week in space had convinced Strike that he commanded a jinx ship.\n Jetting sunward from Venus, the cantankerous     Aphrodite    had burned a\n steering tube through, and it had been necessary to go into free-fall\n while Jenkins, the Assistant E/O, and a damage control party effected\n repairs. When the power was again applied, Old Aphrodisiac was running\n ten hours behind schedule, and Strike and Evans, the Astrogation\n Officer, were sweating out the unforeseen changes introduced into the\n orbital calculations by the time spent in free-fall. \n\n   The     Aphrodite    rumbled on toward the orbit of Mercury.... \n\n   For all the tension between the occupants of the flying-bridge, Strike\n and Ivy Hendricks worked well together. And after a second week in\n space, a reluctant admiration was replacing the resentment between\n them. Ivy spent whatever time she could spare tinkering with her\n father's pet surge-circuit and Strike began to realize that there was\n little she did not know about spaceship engineering. Then, too, Ivy\n spent a lot of time at the controls, and Strike was forced to admit\n that he had never seen a finer job of piloting done by man or woman. \n\n   And finally, Ivy hated old Brass-bottom Gorman even more than Strike\n did. She felt that Gorman had ruined her father's career, and she was\n dedicating her life to proving her father right and Brass-bottom wrong.\n There's nothing in the cosmos to nurture friendship like a common enemy. \n\n   At 30,000,000 miles from the sun, the     Aphrodite's    refrigeration\n units could no longer keep the interior of the ship at a comfortable\n temperature. The thermometer stood at 102\u00b0F, the very metal of\n the ship's fittings hot to the touch. Uniforms were discarded,\n insignia of rank vanished. The men dressed in fiberglass shorts and\n spaceboots, sweat making their naked bodies gleam like copper under the\n sodium-vapor lights. The women in the crew added only light blouses to\n their shorts ... and suffered from extra clothing. \n\n   Strike was in the observation blister forward, when Ensign Graham\n called to say that she had picked up a radar contact sunward. The\n IFF showed the pips to be the     Lachesis    and the     Atropos    . The two\n dreadnaughts were engaged in coronary research patrol ... a purely\n routine business. But the thing that made Strike curse under his breath\n was Celia Graham's notation that the     Atropos    carried none other than\n Space Admiral Horatio Gorman, Cominch Inplan. \n\n   Strike thought it a pity that old Brass-bottom couldn't fall into\n Hell's hottest pit ... and he told Ivy so. \n\n   And she agreed.  \n   Old Aphrodisiac had reached perihelion when it happened. The\n thermometer stood at 135\u00b0 and tempers were snapping. Cob and Celia\n Graham had tangled about some minor point concerning Lover-Girl's\n weight and balance. Ivy went about her work on the bridge without\n speaking, and Strike made no attempt to brighten her sudden depression.\n Lieutenant Evans had punched Bayne, the Tactical Astrophysicist,\n in the eye for some disparaging remark about Southern California\n womanhood. The ratings were grumbling about the food.... \n\n   And then it happened. \n\n   Cob was in the radio room when Sparks pulled the flimsy from the\n scrambler. It was a distress signal from the     Lachesis    . The     Atropos    had burst a fission chamber and was falling into the sun.\n Radiation made a transfer of personnel impossible, and the     Atropos    skeeterboats didn't have the power to pull away from the looming star.\n The     Lachesis    had a line on the sister dreadnaught and was valiantly\n trying to pull the heavy vessel to safety, but even the thundering\n power of the     Lachesis'    mighty drive wasn't enough to break Sol's\n deathgrip on the battleship. \n\n   A fleet of souped-up space-tugs was on its way from Luna and Venusport,\n but they could not possibly arrive on time. And it was doubtful that\n even the tugs had the necessary power to drag the crippled     Atropos    away from a fiery end. \n\n   Cob snatched the flimsy from Sparks' hands and galloped for the\n flying-bridge. He burst in and waved the message excitedly in front of\n Strykalski's face. \n\n   \"Have a look at this! Ye gods and little catfish! Read it!\" \n\n   \"Well, dammit, hold it still so I can!\" snapped Strike. He read the\n message and passed it to Ivy Hendricks with a shake of his head. \n\n   She read it through and looked up exultantly. \"This is     it    ! This is\n the chance I've been praying for, Strike!\" \n\n   He returned her gaze sourly. \"For Gorman to fall into the sun? I recall\n I said something of the sort myself, but there are other men on those\n ships. And, if I know Captain Varni on the     Lachesis    , he won't let go\n that line even if he fries himself.\" \n\n   Ivy's eyes snapped angrily. \"That's not what I meant, and you know it!\n I mean this!\" She touched the red-sealed surge-circuit rheostat. \n\n   \"That's very nice, Lieutenant,\" commented Cob drily. \"And I know that\n you've been very busy adjusting that gismo. But I seem to recall that\n the last time that circuit was uncorked everyone aboard became part of\n the woodwork ... very messily, too.\" \n\n   \"Let me understand you, Ivy,\" said Strike in a flat voice. \"What you\n are suggesting is that I risk my ship and the lives of all of us trying\n to pull old Gorman's fat out of the fire with a drive that's blown\n skyhigh three times out of three. Very neat.\" \n\n   There were tears bright in Ivy Hendricks' eyes and she sounded\n desperate. \"But we can save those ships! We can, I     know    we can! My\n father designed this ship! I know every rivet of her! Those idiots off\n Callisto didn't know what they were doing. These ships needed specially\n trained men. Father told them that! And I'm trained! I can take her in\n and save those ships!\" Her expression turned to one of disgust. \"Or are\n you afraid?\" \n\n   \"Frankly, Ivy, I haven't enough sense to be afraid. But are you so\n certain that we can pull this off? If I make a mistake this time ...\n it'll be the last. For all of us.\" \n\n   \"We can do it,\" said Ivy Hendricks simply. \n\n   Strike turned to Cob. \"What do you say, Cob? Shall we make it hotter in\n here?\" \n\n   Whitley shrugged. \"If you say so, Strike. It's good enough for me.\" \n\n   Celia Graham left the bridge shaking her head. \"We'll all be dead soon.\n And me so young and pretty.\" \n\n   Strike turned to the squawk-box. \"Evans!\" \n\n   \"Evans here,\" came the reply. \n\n   \"Have Sparks get a DF fix on the     Atropos    and hold it. We'll home on\n their carrier wave. They're in trouble and we're going after them. Plot\n the course.\" \n\n   \"Yes, Captain.\" \n\n   Strike turned to Cob. \"Have the gun-crews stand by to relieve the\n black-gang in the tube rooms. It's going to get hotter than the hinges\n of hell down there and we'll have to shorten shifts.\" \n\n   \"Yes, sir!\" Cob saluted and was gone. \n\n   Strike returned to the squawk-box. \"Radar!\" \n\n   \"Graham here,\" replied Celia from her station. \n\n   \"Get a radar fix on the     Lachesis    and hold it. Send your dope up to\n Evans and tell him to send us a range estimate.\" \n\n   \"Yes, Captain,\" the girl replied crisply. \n\n   \"Gun deck!\" \n\n   \"Gun deck here, sir,\" came a feminine voice. \n\n   \"Have number two starboard torpedo tube loaded with a fish and a spool\n of cable. Be ready to let fly on short notice ... any range.\" \n\n   \"Yes, sir!\" The girl switched off. \n\n   \"And now you, Miss Hendricks.\" \n\n   \"Yes, Captain?\" Her voice was low. \n\n   \"Take over Control ... and Ivy....\" \n\n   \"Yes?\" \n\n   \"Don't kill us off.\" He smiled down at her. \n\n   She nodded silently and took her place at the control panel. Smoothly\n she turned old Aphrodisiac's nose sunward....  \n   Lashed together with a length of unbreakable beryllium steel cable,\n the     Lachesis    and the     Atropos    fell helplessly toward the sun. The\n frantic flame that lashed out from the     Lachesis'    tube was fading, her\n fission chambers fusing under the terrific heat of splitting atoms.\n Still she tried. She could not desert her sister ship, nor could she\n save her. Already the two ships had fallen to within 18,000,000 miles\n of the sun's terrifying atmosphere of glowing gases. The prominences\n that spouted spaceward seemed like great fiery tentacles reaching for\n the trapped men on board the warships. The atmospheric guiding fins,\n the gun-turrets and other protuberances on both ships were beginning\n to melt under the fierce radiance. Only the huge refrigeration plants\n on the vessels made life within them possible. And, even so, men were\n dying. \n\n   Swiftly, the fat, ungainly shape of old Aphrodisiac drew near. In her\n flying-bridge, Strike and Ivy Hendricks watched the stricken ships in\n the darkened viewport. \n\n   The temperature stood at 140\u00b0 and the air was bitter with the smell\n of hot metal. Ivy's blouse clung to her body, soaked through with\n perspiration. Sweat ran from her hair into her eyes and she gasped\n for breath in the oven hot compartment. Strike watched her with\n apprehension. \n\n   Carefully, Ivy circled the two warships. From the starboard tube on\n the gun-deck, a homing rocket leapt toward the     Atropos    . It plunged\n straight and true, spilling cable as it flew. It slammed up against\n the hull, and stuck there, fast to the battleship's flank. Quickly,\n a robocrane drew it within the ship and the cable was made secure.\n Like cosmic replicas of the ancient South American \"bolas,\" the three\n spacecraft whirled in space ... and all three began that sunward plunge\n together.       They were diving into the sun.      The heat in the     Aphrodite's    bridge was unbearable. The thermometer\n showed 145\u00b0 and it seemed to Strike that Hell must be cool by\n comparison. \n\n   Ivy fought her reeling senses and the bucking ship as the slack came\n out of the cable. Blackness was flickering at the edges of her field\n of vision. She could scarcely lift her hand to the red-sealed circuit\n rheostat. Shudderingly, she made the effort ... and failed. Conscious,\n but too spent to move, she collapsed over the blistering hot instrument\n panel. \n\n   \"     Ivy!    \" Strike was beside her, cradling her head in his arm. \n\n   \"I ... I ... can't make it ... Strike. You'll ... have to run ... the\n show ... after ... all.\" \n\n   Strike laid her gently in an acceleration chair and turned toward the\n control panel. His head was throbbing painfully as he broke the seal on\n the surge-circuit. \n\n   Slowly he turned the rheostat. Relays chattered. From deep within\n old Lover-Girl's vitals came a low whine. He fed more power into the\n circuit. Cadmium rods slipped into lead sheaths decks below in the\n tube-rooms. The whining rose in pitch. The spinning of the ships in\n space slowed. Stopped. With painful deliberation, they swung into line. \n\n   More power. The whine changed to a shriek. A banshee wail. \n\n   Cob's voice came through the squawk-box, soberly. \"Strike, Celia's\n fainted down here. We can't take much more of this heat.\" \n\n   \"We're trying, Cob!\" shouted Strike over the whine of the circuit. The\n gauges showed the accumulators full. \"     Now!    \" He spun the rheostat to\n the stops, and black space burst over his brain.... \n\n   The last thing he remembered was a voice. It sounded like Bayne's. And\n it was shouting. \"We're moving 'em! We're pulling away! We're....\" And\n that was all. \n\n   The space-tug     Scylla    found them. \n\n   The three ships ...     Atropos    ,     Lachesis    , and old Aphrodisiac ...\n lashed together and drifting in space. Every man and woman aboard out\n cold from the acceleration, and     Aphrodite's    tanks bone dry. But they\n were a safe 80,000,000 miles from Sol....  \n   The orchestra was subdued, the officer's club softly lighted. Cob\n leaned his elbow on the bar and bent to inspect the blue ribbon of the\n Spatial Cross on Strike's chest. Then he inspected his own and nodded\n with tipsy satisfaction. He stared out at the Martian night beyond the\n broad windows and back again at Strike. His frown was puzzled. \n\n   \"All right,\" said Strike, setting down his glass. \"What's on your mind,\n Cob? Something's eating you.\" \n\n   Whitley nodded very slowly. He took a long pull at his highball. \"I\n understand that you goofballed your chances of getting the     Ganymede    back when Gorman spoke his piece to you....\" \n\n   \"All I said to him....\" \n\n   \"I know. I know what you said ... and it won't bear repeating. But\n you're not fooling me. You've fallen for old Lover-Girl and you don't\n want to leave her. Ver-ry commendable. Loyal! Stout fellah! But what\n about Ivy?\" \n\n   \"Ivy?\" \n\n   Cob looked away. \"I thought that you and she ... well, I thought that\n when we got back ... well....\" \n\n   Strike shook his head. \"She's gone to the Bureau of Ships with a\n designing job.\" \n\n   Cob waved an expressive arm in the air. \"But dammit, man, I thought....\" \n\n   \"The answer is     no    . Ivy's a nice girl ... but....\" He paused and\n sighed. \"Since she was promoted to her father's old rank ... well....\"\n He shrugged. \"Who wants a wife that ranks you?\" \n\n   \"Never thought of that,\" mused Cob. For a long while he was silent;\n then he pulled out an address book and leafed through until he came to\n the pages marked \"Canalopolis, Mars.\" \n\n   And he was gratified to see that Lieutenant Commander David Farragut\n Strykalski III was doing the same.  \n", "source": "quality_raw", "evaluation": "exam"}
{"instructions": ["What does the author describe to be a confusing element of the debate on the kin-selection genetic principle?\n\n (A) Traits for kinship did not persist into modern day\n (B) Humans didn\u2019t understand genetics in early evolution\n (C) Humans are capable of treating anyone as kin\n (D) Kin-selection would not have benefitted early humans", "How does the author compare the importance of genetic relationship and bonding?\n\n (A) Genetic relation and bonding are equally important to human capacity of love\n (B) Human capacity to love depends on genetic relation\n (C) Bonding is more important to human capacity to love than genetic relationship\n (D) There is no relationship between bonding and capacity to love", "What argument does the author make about why modern humans are genetically selfish?\n\n (A) Supporting our immediate blood relatives doesn\u2019t help our familial genes persist to the next generation\n (B) Modern humans do not share most of their genes in common, making them selfish\n (C) We fail to see that all modern humans share most of their genes in common, thus, helping any human is helping our genes pass on even if they are unrelated\n (D) Being genetically selfish still helps altruism pass on through modern humans", "What is the author\u2019s thesis?\n\n (A) Limiting love to those you are directly genetically related to is nonsensical from both ethical and genetic selection perspectives\n (B) Human evolution depended on naturalistic fallacy\n (C) Limiting love to those you a genetically related to is important to modern humans\n (D) Humans would evolve faster if kinship was universal", "What weight does the author give to the importance of kin-selection earlier in human evolution?\n\n (A) Early humans had no familial bond with kin, disrupting kin-selection through human evolution\n (B) Traits of kinship were important to familial genetics being passed on, thus kinship was also selected for in early human evolution\n (C) Kin-selection was never all that important to human evolution because altruism would have always been in human DNA\n (D) Traits of kinship would be detrimental to familial genetics being passed on", "Who are genetically considered \u201ckin\u201d?\n\n (A) Full siblings\n (B) All humans\n (C) Adoptive children and full siblings\n (D) Friends", "According to the author, how has the importance of kin-selection changed over human evolution?\n\n (A) Kin-selection is more important now than ever before\n (B) There has been no change to the importance of kin-selection over human evolution\n (C) Helping your kin continues to be important to pass along traits of kinship through the population as a whole\n (D) Traits for kinship are throughout the entire human population now, thus supporting only kin is less important in the modern world for kinship to persist", "How does the author layer ethics into the discussion of kinship?\n\n (A) Humans have never considered natural behavior in animals to be unethical \n (B) Just because a behavior is natural to animals does not mean it is considered ethical\n (C) Natural behaviors in the animal kingdom always lead humans to do what is ethically \u201cgood\u201d\n (D) The ethics discussion is unrelated to the kinship arguments", "Does the author argue that ethics or kinship are more important to modern humans?\n\n (A) No comparative argument is made\n (B) The author posits that kinship and ethics are equally important\n (C) The author posits that kinship is much more important, and natural behaviors explain the ethics\n (D) The author posits that ethical treatment of all humans regardless of kin-status is most important", "Why does the author think it'll be tougher to connect with a daughter that you start raising when she's five years old?\n\n (A) The daughter didn't spend time with you (nor did you with her) when she was little, so lots of bonding time was lost.\n (B) The daughter might be apprehensive about spending extended time with an unknown adult.\n (C) The daughter will be confused as to why you began parenting at that point rather than earlier.\n (D) The daughter might not consider you a proper biological match for a parent.", "What is a conclusion the author would want you to draw from the article?\n\n (A) If you're a mother who just adopted a child you'll naturally produce excess amounts of oxytocin.\n (B) Oxytocin and Pitocin are functionally similar but, but one of the two would naturally be produced by a biological mother.\n (C) If you're a biological parent you should supplement your naturally produced oxytocin with Pitocin.\n (D) If you adopted a child it would be bad for you to take Pitocin in their developmental stages.", "According to the article, why might it be a good idea scientifically to spend money and resources on homeless individuals rather than on gifts for your children?\n\n (A) You will undergo a mood boost from helping homeless individuals that is greater than the mood boost you'd experience from giving gifts to your children.\n (B) You're closely enough related to other non-familial humans that shared genes should not be the reasoning to give gifts to your kids over helping the homeless.\n (C) Your children will undergo a mood boost if they're old enough to understand the value of distributing resources to those who need it.\n (D) Your children will unconditionally love you regardless of what stimulation/gifts you provide, so those resources could be easily reallocated.", "What is the overall tone of this article? Are there any changes in tone over the course of the article?\n\n (A) The overall tone is conversational, with the occasional funny moment or comedic example.\n (B) The overall tone is academic, with very few tonal changes (if any).\n (C) The overall tone is academic, with a few emotional sections to evoke pathos.\n (D) The overall tone is calm, with only a few tonal changes when the author tries to drive home a point.", "What is NOT a scientific concept that is directly addressed in the article?\n\n (A) The extent to which DNA is shared between family members and non-family members.\n (B) The scientific differences between bonding with a biological or an adopted child.\n (C) How geographic and cultural differences impact family-raising strategies and bonding styles.\n (D) The cultural and scientific debate around raising a parent raising an adopted child with a different race/ethnicity from their own.", "Why is it that loving family members like siblings can lead to individual biological success?\n\n (A) We want to see them succeed, so we experience chemical shifts when we see that they're happy.\n (B) If we help them survive tough experiences, we'll learn to not make those mistakes (increasing our biological odds of procreating and being evolutionarily successful).\n (C) If we help them succeed biologically, when they have kids they pass on DNA that matches some of our own.\n (D) Biologically speaking, we share in the successes the exact same way that our siblings do because of genetic similarity.", "Of the following options, who might enjoy reading this the most?\n\n (A) A creationist who wants to prove that evolution isn't real through the ways in which adopted and biological children are treated differently.\n (B) A potential parent deciding between adopting a child and having a biological child.\n (C) A preteen who's adopted and wants to learn more about the differences between parenting of adopted and biological children. \n (D) A high schooler interested in learning more about family dynamics and the chemical/evolutionary processes with regard to parenting.", "Of the following places, where would you most likely find a similar article to be available?\n\n (A) The start of a high school paper about evolution and parenting\n (B) A pamphlet in a family therapist's office\n (C) A science textbook for eighth graders\n (D) An article in a popular newspaper's science section"], "outputs": ["(C) Humans are capable of treating anyone as kin", "(C) Bonding is more important to human capacity to love than genetic relationship", "(C) We fail to see that all modern humans share most of their genes in common, thus, helping any human is helping our genes pass on even if they are unrelated", "(A) Limiting love to those you are directly genetically related to is nonsensical from both ethical and genetic selection perspectives", "(B) Traits of kinship were important to familial genetics being passed on, thus kinship was also selected for in early human evolution", "(A) Full siblings", "(D) Traits for kinship are throughout the entire human population now, thus supporting only kin is less important in the modern world for kinship to persist", "(B) Just because a behavior is natural to animals does not mean it is considered ethical", "(D) The author posits that ethical treatment of all humans regardless of kin-status is most important", "(A) The daughter didn't spend time with you (nor did you with her) when she was little, so lots of bonding time was lost.", "(B) Oxytocin and Pitocin are functionally similar but, but one of the two would naturally be produced by a biological mother.", "(B) You're closely enough related to other non-familial humans that shared genes should not be the reasoning to give gifts to your kids over helping the homeless.", "(A) The overall tone is conversational, with the occasional funny moment or comedic example.", "(C) How geographic and cultural differences impact family-raising strategies and bonding styles.", "(C) If we help them succeed biologically, when they have kids they pass on DNA that matches some of our own.", "(B) A potential parent deciding between adopting a child and having a biological child.", "(D) An article in a popular newspaper's science section"], "input": "The Absurdity of Family Love\nDon't get me wrong. Kids are\ngreat. I have some, and I adore them. Every Christmas I become a slave to my\ncamcorder. Tiny tots with their eyes all aglow, and so on. But now that the\nradiance of the yuletide season is fading, it's time to confront a sobering\nscientific truth: The more you think about the biology of parental love, the\nmore absurd it seems. The same goes for love of kin generally--brothers,\nsisters, nephews, etc.\nReaders\nfamiliar with my obsessions may fear that this column is just another attempt\nto spoil everyone's fun, to replace the beautiful mystery of life with ugly\nDarwinian clarity. Actually, what I hope to dispel isn't pre-Darwinian mystery,\nbut a kind of post-Darwinian mysticism, a confused exaltation of genetic\naffinity. You see the confusion when biological parents invoke \"blood ties\" to\nreclaim a child from adoptive parents. You see it when opponents of\ncross-ethnic adoption argue--as in a New York Times op-ed piece a few\nmonths ago--that we must respect \"the strength of the biological and cultural\nties that Indian tribes can offer their own children.\" In a sense, you see it\nevery year around Christmas, when people pay lip service to the idea of\nuniversal brotherhood but believe in their hearts that it's ridiculous, that\ntruly loving people to whom you aren't related violates some law of nature.\nThanks to the biologist William Hamilton, it is now clear\nwhy people feel brotherly love in the literal sense--and sisterly love,\nmaternal love, and paternal love. It's all due to the operation of \"kin\nselection\" during evolution. A greatly oversimplified textbook example: Two\nmillion years ago, two hominids, Loveless Bob and Loving Bob, stand on two\ndifferent riverbanks, in identical situations. Each is watching his full\nsibling Bill drown. Loving Bob has a gene inclining him to love his brother and\nthus jump in the raging river, even though his risk of dying is 10 percent.\nLoveless Bob has no such gene, and thus stands on the bank wondering whether\nhis brother's corpse will attract any large, edible fish. Which Bob's genes\nwill survive the Darwinian reaper--genes for love or for cold indifference?\nLove triumphs. True, there's\na one-in-10 chance that the love gene will sink along with Loving Bob. But\nconsider the upside. There's a one-in-two chance that Bob's full sibling Bill\nhas the same gene and, thus, that a successful rescue mission will pluck an\notherwise doomed copy of the gene from the dustbin of history. Do the math, and\nyou'll see that, over time, Loving Bobs send more genes to posterity than\nLoveless Bobs. As love genes spread at the expense of indifference genes,\nLoveless Bobs slowly become extinct. Die, selfish scum! Genes for sibling love\ncome to permeate our species--as, in fact, they now do. So do genes for\nmaternal love and paternal love. All brought to you by kin selection.\nAs modern\nDarwinism gets popularized, the basic idea of kin selection is approaching the\nstatus of conventional wisdom. So are some attendant misconceptions.\nMisconception No. 1: Genes are smart .\nPeople often assume that kin-selected altruism is foolproof; that a gene can\nmagically sense copies of itself in other organisms--or, at least, can somehow\nascertain with perfect accuracy which organisms are close relatives of its own\nhost organism and thus may carry copies of itself. In truth, genes aren't\nomniscient, or even sentient. If kin-selected genes are going to induce love of\nkin, they'll have to determine who qualifies as kin in some pedestrian and\nprobably fallible way.\nFor\nexample: Back when Loving Bob was 6 years old, if his mother was nursing some\ninfant named Bill and sleeping by its side every night, there's a very good\nchance that Bill was Bob's sibling. So a gene disposing Bob to love children\nwhom he sees his mother nurturing could spread through the population until\neveryone obeys the same rule. But this rule would misfire now and then, when a\nmother is for some reason nurturing a non-offspring. It's just that the\nmisfiring wouldn't happen often enough to greatly dilute the genetic math\nfavoring the gene's proliferation.\nLittle is known about which rules for identifying\nkin--\"kin-recognition mechanisms\"--do operate in our species. But clearly, they\nare fallible. Even mothers, who you'd think would have a damn good idea of who\ntheir offspring are, can in principle be fooled. When hospital staffers for\nsome reason handed hours-old Kimberly Mays to a mother who was not hers, the\nmother's kin-recognition mechanisms--a k a bonding processes--kicked in. This\nwoman wound up loving Kimberly like a daughter (though the mother died two\nyears later, so that Kimberly was reared mostly by a stepmother). Meanwhile,\nKimberly's genetic mother, having missed years of bonding, can never love\nKimberly quite like her own child, even though Kimberly is her own\nchild. Because genetic relationship per se doesn't matter.\nThis\nirrelevance of genes is why surrogate motherhood is so messy. Even when, thanks\nto in vitro fertilization, the birth mother is unrelated to the fetus she\ncarries, she will, upon giving birth, fall in love with the child. During\nevolution, after all, having a baby come out of your womb was reasonably strong\nevidence of kinship. The power of the hormones that govern this bonding is\nfamiliar to anyone who has watched a woman clutch her just-born child and turn\ninto a love-drunk cuddle-bunny. (When my wife went through this magic moment, I\nbriefly considered snatching the baby and replacing it with an 8-by-10 glossy\nof myself.) This hormonal power was also observed by researchers studying\noxytocin, a hormone that's present in human and other mammalian mothers at\nbirth. The researchers put it in a syringe and used it to shatter all previous\nrecords for cuddling among laboratory rats. By the way, the synthetic version\nof oxytocin, Pitocin, is what doctors use to induce labor.\nMisconception No. 2: People are smart--or,\nat least, they are smart Darwinian robots . Darwinian theory does posit that\nhomo sapiens were \"designed\" to get their genes into the next generation, but\nnot that they were designed to do so consciously and rationally. As surrogate\nmothers have proved, knowing that you've given no genes to an infant needn't\nstop the bonding process. Thus, \"kin- recognition mechanism\" is a doubly\nmisleading term--first because, as we've seen, the mechanism doesn't positively\nidentify kin, but just identifies factors correlated with kinship; and second\nbecause people aren't really aware of doing the identifying. We don't\nthink, \"There's strong evidence that she's my daughter, so I adore her.\" More\nlike, \"God but my daughter's adorable.\"\nIt is\ngood news for adoptive parents that neither genetic relationship nor conscious\nawareness of genetic relationship is a prerequisite for love. Still, it is bad\nnews that maternal bonding begins with hormones at birth. It is also bad news\nthat breast-feeding, which adoptive mothers usually can't do, releases the\nbonding hormone oxytocin. Then again, there is no reason in principle that\nadoptive parents couldn't take Pitocin once a day for synthetic bonding\nsessions. (Oxytocin seems to be part of the bonding formula in men, too.)\nBesides, some genetic mothers aren't conscious at birth, and many don't\nbreast-feed, yet they all nonetheless wind up loving their kids. As the many\nsuccessful adoptive parents know, lots of the magic moments that add up to\ndurabonding have nothing to do with birthing or breast-feeding. (Tiny tots,\nwith their eyes all aglow ... )\nAnyway, the main point is that when genetic parents give up\na child for adoption and have second thoughts weeks, months, or even years\nlater, their appeals to blood ties should count for zilch. Their love of their\nchild, and their child's love of them, depends not on genetic math but on a\nlong and complex chain of bonding, much of which they have already voluntarily\nmissed out on.\nSimilarly,\nthe idea that Native American babies, or black babies, or whatever, have some\nmystical genetic affinity with their \"own\" kind is silly. Obviously,\ncross-ethnic adoption is dicey. It draws sidelong glances and playground\ntaunts, and it may give the adopted child an identity crisis. But it won't do\nthis because of some ancestral memory in the genes. As attitudes change,\ncross-ethnic adoption will get easier; and as cross-ethnic adoption gets more\ncommon, attitudes will change. (There are other pop-genetics arguments against\ncross-ethnic adoption, and against adoption in general. One is that genes\ninfluence personality so powerfully that mixing unrelated siblings is like\nmixing oil and water. This idea is .)\nMisconception No. 3: Our genes, though\nperhaps not real smart, aren't downright stupid . Here we come, at last, to\nthe true absurdity of familial love. As we've seen, the genes that sponsor it\nflourished by encouraging an \"altruism\" that was, in fact, self-serving at the\ngenetic level (the inexorable triumph of Loving Bob's genes). As we've also\nseen, these genes can be \"fooled\" into encouraging altruism toward non-kin,\naltruism that presumably is not self-serving at the genetic level.\nStill, you might argue, in defense of your genes, they usually direct\nfamilial love toward genuine kin, and thus usually succeed in being efficiently\nselfish. Wrong! When genes confine altruism to kin, and deny it to needy\nnon-kin, they are in fact failing spectacularly to be efficiently selfish.\nBecause nowadays, copies of these genes do reside in non-kin--in your\nnext-door neighbor and, for that matter, your worst enemy. After all, the\nDarwinian logic behind love of kin was so relentless that these genes permeated\nour entire species! Loveless Bob is extinct, remember?\nYou can\nbe forgiven for doubting my logic. People like me, in writing about kin\nselection, often talk about full siblings sharing \"half their genes,\" implying\nthat nonrelatives share none. But in truth, you share virtually all your genes\nwith any randomly selected homo sapien on any continent. What people like me\nreally mean is that full siblings share half of any genes that are newly\nminted--genes that have recently arisen and on which natural selection is just\nstarting to pass judgment. Genes that natural selection fully endorsed long\nago--the basic genes for hunger, for lust, for familial love--are in everyone.\nSo genes that originally flourished by bestowing love with discerning\nselfishness--by discriminating against people not containing copies of\nthemselves--now, having spread through the species, discriminate against people\nwho do contain copies! You may doubt that natural selection, a process\nthat supposedly maximizes genetic selfishness, could fail so abjectly to do so.\nBut it's true. .\nSo this past holiday season, as you rushed to buy presents\nfor your kids or your siblings or your nieces or nephews, impelled by\n\"selfishly\" altruistic genes, you were operating under flawed Darwinian logic.\nThese \"selfish\" genes could do just as much for themselves by encouraging you\nto instead spend your money on the beggar outside the department store. In\nfact, they could do more, since the beggar is closer to perishing than your\nrelatives are. (Also, the beggar might buy something useful such as food, as\nopposed to a hair-eating Cabbage Patch doll.) But our genes are too stupid to\nso deftly serve their own welfare.\nNot that I attach much weight\nto what is and isn't \"good\" from the standpoint of genetic self-interest. As\nvirtually all ethical philosophers who have pondered the matter agree, it\ndoesn't make sense to model our moral values on the logic of nature anyway; to\ninfer ought from is --to commit the \"naturalistic fallacy\"--only\nleads to moral confusion. For example, you might, after observing the natural\nbehavior of praying mantises, be tempted to conclude that it is morally good\nfor females to eat males after sex--and this, I submit, would be a repugnant\nand wrongheaded doctrine! (Though slightly less repugnant than the idea of\neating males before the sex.)\nMost people implicitly\nrecognize the naturalistic fallacy in some contexts. They sense that there's\nsomething visceral about, say, malice; yet they'll tell you (when not in its\nthrall) that they disapprove of it. It's obvious, they believe, that the\nnatural strength of hatred is not a good thing. They're right. What is equally\nright, but a bit less obvious, is that the \"natural\" limits of love aren't\nnecessarily good either. And, on close inspection, these limits turn out not to\nbe all that rigorously \"natural\" anyway.\n", "source": "quality_raw", "evaluation": "exam"}
{"instructions": ["How many people were living on the moon before the relief ship arrived?\n\n (A) 5\n (B) 4\n (C) 6\n (D) 7", "How did Klein feel about leaving his wife to go to the moon?\n\n (A) He felt bad she threw a fit about it\n (B) He spent a lot of time sitting and thinking about her\n (C) He didn't want to leave but was motivated by the pay\n (D) He knew she was happy to see him go", "Why does Chapman always inspect the men's equipment before they go outside?\n\n (A) He doesn't want them to join Dixon\n (B) He's gone a little crazy from being on the moon too long\n (C) It's his assigned duty\n (D) He doesn't think they can look after themselves", "Why did Chapman feel embarrassed?\n\n (A) He shared that he wanted to go to a burlesque house\n (B) He shared how much he missed people\n (C) He shared that he wanted to be naked outdoors\n (D) He told his coworker about his girlfriend", "How does Chapman feel about being relieved from his duty?\n\n (A) Proud to pass on the duty to such a worthy colleague\n (B) Worried that the younger astronaut will ruin what he accomplished\n (C) Slighted that a younger scientist was offered the role in his place\n (D) Elated to finally be released", "What is the relationship like between Dahl and Chapman?\n\n (A) They were adversaries in university but came to support each other living together on the moon\n (B) Friendly colleagues who went to university together to train for space\n (C) Colleagues, but they are not friends\n (D) They are brothers in-law and Dahl is eager to return to his wife", "What are the living conditions of the astronauts on the moon?\n\n (A) It\u2019s almost the same at their life on Earth\n (B) They are able to grow food\n (C) They have artificial gravity in their living quarters\n (D) They sleep strapped into vertical beds", "What makes Chapman so qualified to train crews on the moon?\n\n (A) His attention to scientific details\n (B) His technical skills and leadership\n (C) His lack of ties back home on Earth\n (D) His mechanical background and military training"], "outputs": ["(C) 6", "(C) He didn't want to leave but was motivated by the pay", "(A) He doesn't want them to join Dixon", "(C) He shared that he wanted to be naked outdoors", "(D) Elated to finally be released", "(C) Colleagues, but they are not friends", "(C) They have artificial gravity in their living quarters", "(B) His technical skills and leadership"], "input": "The Reluctant Heroes \n\n   By FRANK M. ROBINSON \n\n   Illustrated by DON SIBLEY \n\n   Pioneers have always resented their wanderlust, hated    their hardships. But the future brings a new grudge\u2014when    pioneers stay put and scholars do the exploring!       The very young man sat on the edge of the sofa and looked nervous. He\n carefully studied his fingernails and ran his hands through his hair\n and picked imaginary lint off the upholstery.       \"I have a chance to go with the first research expedition to Venus,\"\n he said.       The older man studied the very young man thoughtfully and then leaned\n over to his humidor and offered him a cigaret. \"It's nice to have the\n new air units now. There was a time when we had to be very careful\n about things like smoking.\"       The very young man was annoyed.       \"I don't think I want to go,\" he blurted. \"I don't think I would care\n to spend two years there.\"       The older man blew a smoke ring and watched it drift toward the air\n exhaust vent.       \"You mean you would miss it here, the people you've known and grown\n up with, the little familiar things that have made up your life here.\n You're afraid the glamor would wear off and you would get to hate it on\n Venus.\"       The very young man nodded miserably. \"I guess that's it.\"       \"Anything else?\"       The very young man found his fingernails extremely fascinating again\n and finally said, in a low voice, \"Yes, there is.\"       \"A girl?\"       A nod confirmed this.       It was the older man's turn to look thoughtful. \"You know, I'm sure,\n that psychologists and research men agree that research stations should\n be staffed by couples. That is, of course, as soon as it's practical.\"       \"But that might be a long time!\" the very young man protested.       \"It might be\u2014but sometimes it's sooner than you think. And the goal\n is worth it.\"       \"I suppose so, but\u2014\"       The older man smiled. \"Still the reluctant heroes,\" he said, somewhat\n to himself.      Chapman stared at the radio key. \n\n   Three years on the Moon and they didn't want him to come back. \n\n   Three years on the Moon and they thought he'd be glad to stay for more.\n Just raise his salary or give him a bonus, the every-man-has-his-price\n idea. They probably thought he liked it there. \n\n   Oh, sure, he loved it. Canned coffee, canned beans, canned pills,\n and canned air until your insides felt as though they were plated\n with tin. Life in a cramped, smelly little hut where you could take\n only ten steps in any one direction. Their little scientific home of\n tomorrow with none of the modern conveniences, a charming place where\n you couldn't take a shower, couldn't brush your teeth, and your kidneys\n didn't work right. \n\n   And for double his salary they thought he'd be glad to stay for another\n year and a half. Or maybe three. He should probably be glad he had the\n opportunity. \n\n   The key started to stutter again, demanding an answer. \n\n   He tapped out his reply: \"     No!    \" \n\n   There was a silence and then the key stammered once more in a sudden\n fit of bureaucratic rage. Chapman stuffed a rag under it and ignored\n it. He turned to the hammocks, strung against the bulkhead on the other\n side of the room. \n\n   The chattering of the key hadn't awakened anybody; they were still\n asleep, making the animal noises that people usually make in slumber.\n Dowden, half in the bottom hammock and half on the floor, was snoring\n peacefully. Dahl, the poor kid who was due for stopover, was mumbling\n to himself. Julius Klein, with that look of ineffable happiness on his\n face, looked as if he had just squirmed under the tent to his personal\n idea of heaven. Donley and Bening were lying perfectly still, their\n covers not mussed, sleeping very lightly. \n\n   Lord, Chapman thought, I'll be happy when I can see some other faces. \n\n   \"What'd they want?\" Klein had one eyelid open and a questioning look on\n his face. \n\n   \"They wanted me to stay until the next relief ship lands,\" Chapman\n whispered back. \n\n   \"What did you say?\" \n\n   He shrugged. \"No.\" \n\n   \"You kept it short,\" somebody else whispered. It was Donley, up and\n sitting on the side of his hammock. \"If it had been me, I would have\n told them just what they could do about it.\"  \n   The others were awake now, with the exception of Dahl who had his face\n to the bulkhead and a pillow over his head. \n\n   Dowden rubbed his eyes sleepily. \"Sore, aren't you?\" \n\n   \"Kind of. Who wouldn't be?\" \n\n   \"Well, don't let it throw you. They've never been here on the Moon.\n They don't know what it's like. All they're trying to do is get a good\n man to stay on the job a while longer.\" \n\n   \"     All    they're trying to do,\" Chapman said sarcastically. \"They've got\n a fat chance.\" \n\n   \"They think you've found a home here,\" Donley said. \n\n   \"Why the hell don't you guys shut up until morning?\" Dahl was awake,\n looking bitter. \"Some of us still have to stay here, you know. Some of\n us aren't going back today.\" \n\n   No, Chapman thought, some of us aren't going back. You aren't. And\n Dixon's staying, too. Only Dixon isn't ever going back. \n\n   Klein jerked his thumb toward Dahl's bunk, held a finger to his lips,\n and walked noiselessly over to the small electric stove. It was his day\n for breakfast duty. \n\n   The others started lacing up their bunks, getting ready for their last\n day of work on the Moon. In a few hours they'd be relieved by members\n of the Third research group and they'd be on their way back to Earth. \n\n   And that includes me, Chapman thought. I'm going home. I'm finally\n going home. \n\n   He walked silently to the one small, quartz window in the room. It was\n morning\u2014the Moon's \"morning\"\u2014and he shivered slightly. The rays of\n the Sun were just striking the far rim of the crater and long shadows\n shot across the crater floor. The rest of it was still blanketed in\n a dark jumble of powdery pumice and jagged peaks that would make the\n Black Hills of Dakota look like paradise. \n\n   A hundred yards from the research bunker he could make out the small\n mound of stones and the forlorn homemade cross, jury-rigged out of\n small condensed milk tins slid over crossed iron bars. You could still\n see the footprints in the powdery soil where the group had gathered\n about the grave. It had been more than eighteen months ago, but there\n was no wind to wear those tracks away. They'd be there forever. \n\n   That's what happened to guys like Dixon, Chapman thought. On the Moon,\n one mistake could use up your whole quota of chances. \n\n   Klein came back with the coffee. Chapman took a cup, gagged, and forced\n himself to swallow the rest of it. It had been in the can for so long\n you could almost taste the glue on the label.  \n   Donley was warming himself over his cup, looking thoughtful. Dowden and\n Bening were struggling into their suits, getting ready to go outside.\n Dahl was still sitting on his hammock, trying to ignore them. \n\n   \"Think we ought to radio the space station and see if they've left\n there yet?\" Klein asked. \n\n   \"I talked to them on the last call,\" Chapman said. \"The relief ship\n left there twelve hours ago. They should get here\"\u2014he looked at his\n watch\u2014\"in about six and a half hours.\" \n\n   \"Chap, you know, I've been thinking,\" Donley said quietly. \"You've\n been here just twice as long as the rest of us. What's the first thing\n you're going to do once you get back?\" \n\n   It hit them, then. Dowden and Bening looked blank for a minute and\n blindly found packing cases to sit on. The top halves of their suits\n were still hanging on the bulkhead. Klein lowered his coffee cup and\n looked grave. Even Dahl glanced up expectantly. \n\n   \"I don't know,\" Chapman said slowly. \"I guess I was trying not to think\n of that. I suppose none of us have. We've been like little kids who\n have waited so long for Christmas that they just can't believe it when\n it's finally Christmas Eve.\" \n\n   Klein nodded in agreement. \"I haven't been here three years like you\n have, but I think I know what you mean.\" He warmed up to it as the idea\n sank in. \"Just what the hell     are    you going to do?\" \n\n   \"Nothing very spectacular,\" Chapman said, smiling. \"I'm going to rent\n a room over Times Square, get a recording of a rikky-tik piano, and\n drink and listen to the music and watch the people on the street below.\n Then I think I'll see somebody.\" \n\n   \"Who's the somebody?\" Donley asked. \n\n   Chapman grinned. \"Oh, just somebody. What are you going to do, Dick?\" \n\n   \"Well, I'm going to do something practical. First of all, I want to\n turn over all my geological samples to the government. Then I'm going\n to sell my life story to the movies and then\u2014why, then, I think I'll\n get drunk!\" \n\n   Everybody laughed and Chapman turned to Klein. \n\n   \"How about you, Julius?\" \n\n   Klein looked solemn. \"Like Dick, I'll first get rid of my obligations\n to the expedition. Then I think I'll go home and see my wife.\" \n\n   They were quiet. \"I thought all members of the groups were supposed to\n be single,\" Donley said. \n\n   \"They are. And I can see their reasons for it. But who could pass up\n the money the Commission was paying?\" \n\n   \"If I had to do it all over again? Me,\" said Donley promptly. \n\n   They laughed. Somebody said: \"Go play your record, Chap. Today's the\n day for it.\" \n\n   The phonograph was a small, wind-up model that Chapman had smuggled in\n when he had landed with the First group. The record was old and the\n shellac was nearly worn off, but the music was good. \n\n   Way Back Home by Al Lewis.  \n   They ran through it twice. They were beginning to feel it now, Chapman\n thought. They were going to go home in a little while and the idea was\n just starting to sink in. \n\n   \"You know, Chap,\" Donley said, \"it won't seem like the same old Moon\n without you on it. Why, we'll look at it when we're out spooning or\n something and it just won't have the same old appeal.\" \n\n   \"Like they say in the army,\" Bening said, \"you never had it so good.\n You found a home here.\" \n\n   The others chimed in and Chapman grinned. Yesterday or a week ago they\n couldn't have done it. He had been there too long and he had hated it\n too much. \n\n   The party quieted down after a while and Dowden and Bening finished\n getting into their suits. They still had a section of the sky to map\n before they left. Donley was right after them. There was an outcropping\n of rock that he wanted a sample of and some strata he wished to\n investigate. \n\n   And the time went faster when you kept busy.      Chapman stopped them at the lock. \"Remember to check your suits for\n leaks,\" he warned. \"And check the valves of your oxygen tanks.\" \n\n   Donley looked sour. \"I've gone out at least five hundred times,\" he\n said, \"and you check me each time.\" \n\n   \"And I'd check you five hundred more,\" Chapman said. \"It takes only\n one mistake. And watch out for blisters under the pumice crust. You go\n through one of those and that's it, brother.\" \n\n   Donley sighed. \"Chap, you watch us like an old mother hen. You see we\n check our suits, you settle our arguments, you see that we're not bored\n and that we stay healthy and happy. I think you'd blow our noses for us\n if we caught cold. But some day, Chap old man, you're gonna find out\n that your little boys can watch out for themselves!\" \n\n   But he checked his suit for leaks and tested the valve of his tank\n before he left.      Only Klein and Chapman were left in the bunker. Klein was at the work\n table, carefully labeling some lichen specimens. \n\n   \"I never knew you were married,\" Chapman said. \n\n   Klein didn't look up. \"There wasn't much sense in talking about it. You\n just get to thinking and wanting\u2014and there's nothing you can do about\n it. You talk about it and it just makes it worse.\" \n\n   \"She let you go without any fuss, huh?\" \n\n   \"No, she didn't make any fuss. But I don't think she liked to see me\n go, either.\" He laughed a little. \"At least I hope she didn't.\"  \n   They were silent for a while. \"What do you miss most, Chap?\" Klein\n asked. \"Oh, I know what we said a little while ago, but I mean\n seriously.\" \n\n   Chapman thought a minute. \"I think I miss the sky,\" he said quietly.\n \"The blue sky and the green grass and trees with leaves on them that\n turn color in the Fall. I think, when I go back, that I'd like to go\n out in a rain storm and strip and feel the rain on my skin.\" \n\n   He stopped, feeling embarrassed. Klein's expression was encouraging.\n \"And then I think I'd like to go downtown and just watch the shoppers\n on the sidewalks. Or maybe go to a burlesque house and smell the cheap\n perfume and the popcorn and the people sweating in the dark.\" \n\n   He studied his hands. \"I think what I miss most is people\u2014all kinds\n of people. Bad people and good people and fat people and thin people,\n and people I can't understand. People who wouldn't know an atom from an\n artichoke. And people who wouldn't give a damn. We're a quarter of a\n million miles from nowhere, Julius, and to make it literary, I think I\n miss my fellow man more than anything.\" \n\n   \"Got a girl back home?\" Klein asked almost casually. \n\n   \"Yes.\" \n\n   \"You're not like Dahl. You've never mentioned it.\" \n\n   \"Same reason you didn't mention your wife. You get to thinking about\n it.\" \n\n   Klein flipped the lid on the specimen box. \"Going to get married when\n you get back?\" \n\n   Chapman was at the port again, staring out at the bleak landscape. \"We\n hope to.\" \n\n   \"Settle down in a small cottage and raise lots of little Chapmans, eh?\" \n\n   Chapman nodded. \n\n   \"That's the only future,\" Klein said. \n\n   He put away the box and came over to the port. Chapman moved over so\n they both could look out. \n\n   \"Chap.\" Klein hesitated a moment. \"What happened to Dixon?\" \n\n   \"He died,\" Chapman said. \"He was a good kid, all wrapped up in science.\n Being on the Moon was the opportunity of a lifetime. He thought so much\n about it that he forgot a lot of little things\u2014like how to stay alive.\n The day before the Second group came, he went out to finish some work\n he was interested in. He forgot to check for leaks and whether or not\n the valve on his tank was all the way closed. We couldn't get to him in\n time.\" \n\n   \"He had his walkie-talkie with him?\" \n\n   \"Yes. It worked fine, too. We heard everything that went through his\n mind at the end.\" \n\n   Klein's face was blank. \"What's your real job here, Chap? Why does\n somebody have to stay for stopover?\" \n\n   \"Hell, lots of reasons, Julius. You can't get a whole relief crew and\n let them take over cold. They have to know where you left off. They\n have to know where things are, how things work, what to watch out for.\n And then, because you've been here a year and a half and know the\n ropes, you have to watch them to see that they stay alive in spite of\n themselves. The Moon's a new environment and you have to learn how to\n live in it. There's a lot of things to learn\u2014and some people just\n never learn.\" \n\n   \"You're nursemaid, then.\" \n\n   \"I suppose you could call it that.\"  \n   Klein said, \"You're not a scientist, are you?\" \n\n   \"No, you should know that. I came as the pilot of the first ship. We\n made the bunker out of parts of the ship so there wasn't anything to\n go back on. I'm a good mechanic and I made myself useful with the\n machinery. When it occurred to us that somebody was going to have to\n stay over, I volunteered. I thought the others were so important that\n it was better they should take their samples and data back to Earth\n when the first relief ship came.\" \n\n   \"You wouldn't do it again, though, would you?\" \n\n   \"No, I wouldn't.\" \n\n   \"Do you think Dahl will do as good a job as you've done here?\" \n\n   Chapman frowned. \"Frankly, I hadn't thought of that. I don't believe\n I care. I've put in my time; it's somebody else's turn now. He\n volunteered for it. I think I was fair in explaining all about the job\n when you talked it over among yourselves.\" \n\n   \"You did, but I don't think Dahl's the man for it. He's too young, too\n much of a kid. He volunteered because he thought it made him look like\n a hero. He doesn't have the judgment that an older man would have. That\n you have.\" \n\n   Chapman turned slowly around and faced Klein. \n\n   \"I'm not the indispensable man,\" he said slowly, \"and even if I was, it\n wouldn't make any difference to me. I'm sorry if Dahl is young. So was\n I. I've lost three years up here. And I don't intend to lose any more.\" \n\n   Klein held up his hands. \"Look, Chap, I didn't mean you should stay. I\n know how much you hate it and the time you put in up here. It's just\u2014\"\n His voice trailed away. \"It's just that I think it's such a damn\n important job.\" \n\n   Klein had gone out in a last search for rock lichens and Chapman\n enjoyed one of his relatively few moments of privacy. He wandered over\n to his bunk and opened his barracks bag. He checked the underwear and\n his toothbrush and shaving kit for maybe the hundredth time and pushed\n the clothing down farther in the canvas. It was foolish because the\n bag was already packed and had been for a week. He remembered stalling\n it off for as long as he could and then the quiet satisfaction about a\n week before, when he had opened his small gear locker and transferred\n its meager belongings to the bag. \n\n   He hadn't actually needed to pack, of course. In less than twenty-four\n hours he'd be back on Earth where he could drown himself in toothpaste\n and buy more tee shirts than he could wear in a lifetime. He could\n leave behind his shorts and socks and the outsize shirts he had\n inherited from\u2014who was it? Driesbach?\u2014of the First group. Dahl could\n probably use them or maybe one of the boys in the Third.  \n   But it wasn't like going home unless you packed. It was part of the\n ritual, like marking off the last three weeks in pencil on the gray\n steel of the bulkhead beside his hammock. Just a few hours ago, when he\n woke up, he had made the last check mark and signed his name and the\n date. His signature was right beneath Dixon's. \n\n   He frowned when he thought of Dixon and slid back the catch on the top\n of the bag and locked it. They should never have sent a kid like Dixon\n to the Moon. \n\n   He had just locked the bag when he heard the rumble of the airlock and\n the soft hiss of air. Somebody had come back earlier than expected. He\n watched the inner door swing open and the spacesuited figure clump in\n and unscrew its helmet. \n\n   Dahl. He had gone out to help Dowden on the Schmidt telescope. Maybe\n Dowden hadn't needed any help, with Bening along. Or more likely,\n considering the circumstances, Dahl wasn't much good at helping anybody\n today. \n\n   Dahl stripped off his suit. His face was covered with light beads of\n sweat and his eyes were frightened. \n\n   He moistened his lips slightly. \"Do\u2014do you think they'll ever have\n relief ships up here more often than every eighteen months, Chap? I\n mean, considering the advance of\u2014\" \n\n   \"No,\" Chapman interrupted bluntly. \"I don't. Not at least for ten\n years. The fuel's too expensive and the trip's too hazardous. On\n freight charges alone you're worth your weight in platinum when they\n send you here. Even if it becomes cheaper, Bob, it won't come about\n so it will shorten stopover right away.\" He stopped, feeling a little\n sorry for Dahl. \"It won't be too bad. There'll be new men up here and\n you'll pass a lot of time getting to know them.\" \n\n   \"Well, you see,\" Dahl started, \"that's why I came back early. I wanted\n to see you about stopover. It's that\u2014well, I'll put it this way.\" He\n seemed to be groping for an easy way to say what he wanted to. \"I'm\n engaged back home. Really nice girl, Chap, you'd like her if you knew\n her.\" He fumbled in his pocket and found a photograph and put it on\n the desk. \"That's a picture of Alice, taken at a picnic we were on\n together.\" Chapman didn't look. \"She\u2014we\u2014expected to be married when\n I got back. I never told her about stopover, Chap. She thinks I'll be\n home tomorrow. I kept thinking, hoping, that maybe somehow\u2014\" \n\n   He was fumbling it badly, Chapman thought. \n\n   \"You wanted to trade places with me, didn't you, Bob? You thought I\n might stay for stopover again, in your place?\" \n\n   It hurt to look in Dahl's eyes. They were the eyes of a man who was\n trying desperately to stop what he was about to do, but just couldn't\n help himself. \n\n   \"Well, yes, more or less. Oh, God, Chap, I know you want to go home!\n But I couldn't ask any of the others; you were the only one who could,\n the only one who was qualified!\"  \n   Dahl looked as though he was going to be sick. Chapman tried to recall\n all he knew about him. Dahl, Robert. Good mathematician. Graduate from\n one of the Ivy League schools. Father was a manufacturer of stoves or\n something. \n\n   It still didn't add, not quite. \"You know I don't like it here any more\n than you do,\" Chapman said slowly. \"I may have commitments at home,\n too. What made you think I would change my mind?\" \n\n   Dahl took the plunge. \"Well, you see,\" he started eagerly, too far gone\n to remember such a thing as pride, \"you know my father's pretty well\n fixed. We would make it worth your while, Chap.\" He was feverish. \"It\n would mean eighteen more months, Chap, but they'd be well-paid months!\" \n\n   Chapman felt tired. The good feeling he had about going home was slowly\n evaporating. \n\n   \"If you have any report to make, I think you had better get at it,\"\n he cut in, keeping all the harshness he felt out of his voice. \"It'll\n be too late after the relief ship leaves. It'll be easier to give the\n captain your report than try to radio it back to Earth from here.\" \n\n   He felt sorrier for Dahl than he could ever remember having felt for\n anybody. Long after going home, Dahl would remember this. \n\n   It would eat at him like a cancer. \n\n   Cowardice is the one thing for which no man ever forgives himself.  \n   Donley was eating a sandwich and looking out the port, so, naturally,\n he saw the ship first. \"Well, whaddya know!\" he shouted. \"We got\n company!\" He dashed for his suit. Dowden and Bening piled after him and\n all three started for the lock. \n\n   Chapman was standing in front of it. \"Check your suits,\" he said\n softly. \"Just be sure to check.\" \n\n   \"Oh, what the hell, Chap!\" Donley started angrily. Then he shut up and\n went over his suit. He got to his tank and turned white. Empty. It was\n only half a mile to the relief rocket, so somebody would probably have\n got to him in time, but.... He bit his lips and got a full tank. \n\n   Chapman and Klein watched them dash across the pumice, making the\n tremendous leaps they used to read about in the Sunday supplements. The\n port of the rocket had opened and tiny figures were climbing down the\n ladder. The small figures from the bunker reached them and did a short\n jig of welcome. Then the figures linked arms and started back. Chapman\n noticed one\u2014it was probably Donley\u2014pat the ship affectionately before\n he started back.      They were in the lock and the air pumped in and then they were in\n the bunker, taking off their suits. The newcomers were impressed and\n solemn, very much aware of the tremendous responsibility that rested on\n their shoulders. Like Donley and Klein and the members of the Second\n group had been when they had landed. Like Chapman had been in the First. \n\n   Donley and the others were all over them.  \n   How was it back on Earth? Who had won the series? Was so-and-so still\n teaching at the university? What was the international situation? \n\n   Was the sky still blue, was the grass still green, did the leaves still\n turn color in the autumn, did people still love and cry and were there\n still people who didn't know what an atom was and didn't give a damn? \n\n   Chapman had gone through it all before. But was Ginny still Ginny? \n\n   Some of the men in the Third had their luggage with them. One of\n them\u2014a husky, red-faced kid named Williams\u2014was opening a box about a\n foot square and six inches deep. Chapman watched him curiously. \n\n   \"Well, I'll be damned!\" Klein said. \"Hey, guys, look what we've got\n here!\" \n\n   Chapman and the others crowded around and suddenly Donley leaned over\n and took a deep breath. In the box, covering a thick layer of ordinary\n dirt, was a plot of grass. They looked at it, awed. Klein put out his\n hand and laid it on top of the grass. \n\n   \"I like the feel of it,\" he said simply. \n\n   Chapman cut off a single blade with his fingernail and put it between\n his lips. It had been years since he had seen grass and had the luxury\n of walking on it and lying on its cool thickness during those sultry\n summer nights when it was too hot to sleep indoors. \n\n   Williams blushed. \"I thought we could spare a little water for it and\n maybe use the ultraviolet lamp on it some of the time. Couldn't help\n but bring it along; it seemed sort of like a symbol....\" He looked\n embarrassed. \n\n   Chapman sympathized. If he had had any sense, he'd have tried to\n smuggle something like that up to the Moon instead of his phonograph. \n\n   \"That's valuable grass,\" Dahl said sharply. \"Do you realize that at\n current freight rates up here, it's worth about ten dollars a blade?\" \n\n   Williams looked stricken and somebody said, \"Oh, shut up, Dahl.\" \n\n   One of the men separated from the group and came over to Chapman. He\n held out his hand and said, \"My name's Eberlein. Captain of the relief\n ship. I understand you're in charge here?\" \n\n   Chapman nodded and shook hands. They hadn't had a captain on the First\n ship. Just a pilot and crew. Eberlein looked every inch a captain, too.\n Craggy face, gray hair, the firm chin of a man who was sure of himself. \n\n   \"You might say I'm in charge here,\" Chapman said. \n\n   \"Well, look, Mr. Chapman, is there any place where we can talk together\n privately?\" \n\n   They walked over to one corner of the bunker. \"This is about as private\n as we can get, captain,\" Chapman said. \"What's on your mind?\"  \n   Eberlein found a packing crate and made himself comfortable. He looked\n at Chapman. \n\n   \"I've always wanted to meet the man who's spent more time here than\n anybody else,\" he began. \n\n   \"I'm sure you wanted to see me for more reasons than just curiosity.\" \n\n   Eberlein took out a pack of cigarets. \"Mind if I smoke?\" \n\n   Chapman jerked a thumb toward Dahl. \"Ask him. He's in charge now.\" \n\n   The captain didn't bother. He put the pack away. \"You know we have big\n plans for the station,\" he said. \n\n   \"I hadn't heard of them.\" \n\n   \"Oh, yes,     big plans    . They're working on unmanned, open-side rockets\n now that could carry cargo and sheet steel for more bunkers like this.\n Enable us to enlarge the unit, have a series of bunkers all linked\n together. Make good laboratories and living quarters for you people.\"\n His eyes swept the room. \"Have a little privacy for a change.\" \n\n   Chapman nodded. \"They could use a little privacy up here.\" \n\n   The captain noticed the pronoun. \"Well, that's one of the reasons why\n I wanted to talk to you, Chapman. The Commission talked it over and\n they'd like to see you stay. They feel if they're going to enlarge it,\n add more bunkers and have more men up here, that a man of practical\n experience should be running things. They figure that you're the only\n man who's capable and who's had the experience.\" \n\n   The captain vaguely felt the approach was all wrong. \n\n   \"Is that all?\" \n\n   Eberlein was ill at ease. \"Naturally you'd be paid well. I don't\n imagine any man would like being here all the time. They're prepared to\n double your salary\u2014maybe even a bonus in addition\u2014and let you have\n full charge. You'd be Director of the Luna Laboratories.\" \n\n   All this and a title too, Chapman thought. \n\n   \"That's it?\" Chapman asked. \n\n   Eberlein frowned. \"Well, the Commission said they'd be willing to\n consider anything else you had in mind, if it was more money or....\" \n\n   \"The answer is no,\" Chapman said. \"I'm not interested in more money\n for staying because I'm not interested in staying. Money can't buy it,\n captain. I'm sorry, but I'm afraid that you'd have to stay up here to\n appreciate that. \n\n   \"Bob Dahl is staying for stopover. If there's something important about\n the project or impending changes, perhaps you'd better tell him before\n you go.\" \n\n   He walked away.  \n", "source": "quality_raw", "evaluation": "exam"}
{"instructions": ["What does \"jaywalker\" refer to in this story?\n\n (A) A person who does an illegal spacewalk\n (B) A person who illegally gains passage into space\n (C) A person who crosses the street illegally\n (D) A person who illegally lives on the moon", "Why did the woman have Nellie take a physical in her place?\n\n (A) She was expecting a baby\n (B) She was a scheming woman\n (C) She was brave and adventurous\n (D) She was wanting to surprise her husband", "What was the woman's plan in going into space?\n\n (A) To have her baby on the moon\n (B) To spy on her husband without him knowing\n (C) To kill herself\n (D) For her husband to fall back in love with her", "Why was the woman afraid to get on the spaceship and take off?\n\n (A) She was feeling sick\n (B) She didn't know anyone who had been to space\n (C) She thought her husband would be mad\n (D) Her dad had died in a rocket launch", "Why did the woman not like the flight attendant?\n\n (A) The attendant was emotionless\n (B) She thought her husband loved the attendant\n (C) The attendant found out her true identity\n (D) The attendant forced her to take a medical exam", "What made the woman want to fight with her husband?\n\n (A) She resented that he wanted to leave her and go to space\n (B) She thought he was having an affair with a flight attendant\n (C) She thought he didn't care about their baby\n (D) She thought he was not very skilled at his work", "For humans, what is the most dangerous part of the trip to the moon?\n\n (A) Freefall\n (B) Take off\n (C) Landing\n (D) Orbit", "What best describes Miss Eagen and the Captain\u2019s relationship?\n\n (A) They are married and expecting a baby\n (B) Close colleagues that are bound by duty\n (C) Secret lovers that had just been discovered\n (D) Antagonistic colleagues that do what they need to do to work together", "What best describes the relationship between Jack and wife?\n\n (A) He is bound by duties that mean he is often away and she is usually unable to join him\n (B) Jack won\u2019t abandon his station on the Moon for his wife\n (C) They both travel often for work, and their relationship has suffered\n (D) She is constantly trying to travel with him, but he is evasive about his plans because they are in a disagreement", "Why do the flight attendants check if the passengers are feeling well?\n\n (A) Those with certain maladies are unable to travel in space without dying\n (B) Feeling ill is an indication of not being emotionally prepared to go into space\n (C) They need to be extra cautious not to transfer viruses from Earth to the Moon\n (D) The passengers have duties to ensure the safe travel of everyone on board, so they must be in top condition", "Who does Miss Eagen mistake Marcia for when she boards the ship?\n\n (A) A high official needed expedited travel to the Moon\n (B) An accomplice to Marcia\u2019s plan\n (C) Miss Eagen is not fooled about Marcia\u2019s identity\n (D) A stranger Marcia has never met"], "outputs": ["(B) A person who illegally gains passage into space", "(A) She was expecting a baby", "(D) For her husband to fall back in love with her", "(D) Her dad had died in a rocket launch", "(B) She thought her husband loved the attendant", "(A) She resented that he wanted to leave her and go to space", "(A) Freefall", "(B) Close colleagues that are bound by duty", "(A) He is bound by duties that mean he is often away and she is usually unable to join him", "(A) Those with certain maladies are unable to travel in space without dying", "(B) An accomplice to Marcia\u2019s plan"], "input": "JAYWALKER \n\n   BY ROSS ROCKLYNNE \n\n   Illustrated by DON DIBLEY \n\n   Women may be against progress because it means new    pseudo-widowhoods. Space-widowhood, for instance....  \n   At last she was on the gangplank, entering the mouth of the\n spaceship\u2014and nothing could ever stop her now. Not unless she broke\n down completely in front of all these hurrying, Moon-bound passengers,\n in plain sight of the scattered crowd which clustered on the other\n side of the space-field barriers. Even that possibility was denied her\n when two gently insistent middle-aged ladies indicated she was blocking\n the way....      Somehow, dizzily, she was at her seat, led there by a smiling,\n brown-clad stewardess; and her azure-tipped fingers were clutching at\n the pearl-gray plasta-leather of the chair arm. Her eyes, the azure\n of her nails, the azure (so she had been told) of Earth seen from\n interplanetary space, grew hot. She closed them, and for a moment\n gave herself up to an almost physical yearning for the Toluca Lake\n house\u2014the comfort, the safety, the\u2014the     sanity    of it.  \n   Stubbornly she forced herself back to reality. At any moment Jack,\n dark-eyed and scrappy, might come swinging down the long, shining\n aisle. Jack\u2014Captain Jack McHenry, if you please\u2014must not know, yet,\n what she was doing to patch up their marriage. \n\n   She turned her face away from the aisle, covered her cheek with her\n hand to hide it. Her gaze went out through the ray-proof glass port to\n the field, to the laboring beetle of a red tractor bearing the gangway\n on its busy back, to the low, blast-proof administration building. When\n her gaze came to the tall sign over the entrance, she hurried it past;\n it was too late to think about that now, the square, shouting type that\n read: \n\n   CAUTION    HAVE YOU PASSED YOUR PHYSICAL EXAMINATION? \n\n    Avoiding It May Cost Your Life!  \n   \"May I see your validation, please?\" \n\n   Marcia McHenry stiffened. Had she read the sign aloud? She turned\n startled eyes up to the smiling stewardess, who was holding out a\n well-groomed hand. Marcia responded weakly to the smile, overcame a\n sudden urge to blurt out that she had no validation\u2014not her own,\n anyway. But her stiff fingers were already holding out the pink card\n with Nellie Foster's name on it. \n\n   \"You're feeling well, Mrs. Foster?\"  \n    Feeling well? Yes, of course. Except for the\u2014usual sickness. But\n that's so very normal    .... Her numb lips moved. \"I'm fine,\" she said. \n\n   Miss Eagen (which, her neat lapel button attested, was her name) made\n a penciled frown as lovely as her machined smile. \"Some day,\" she told\n Marcia, \"we won't have to ask the passengers if they're well. It's so\n easy to come aboard on someone else's validation, and people don't seem\n to realize how dangerous that is.\" \n\n   As Miss Eagen moved to the next seat, Marcia shrank into a small\n huddle, fumbling with the card until it was crammed shapeless into her\n purse. Then from the depths of her guilt came rebellion. It was going\n to be all right. She was doing the biggest thing she'd ever done, and\n Jack would rise to the occasion, and it would be all right. \n\n   It     had    to be all right.... \n\n   After this\u2014if this didn't work\u2014there just would be nothing else she\n could do. She wasn't a scheming woman. No one would ever know how\n difficult it had been for her to think up the whole plan, to find\n Nellie Foster (someone Jack had never met) and to persuade Nellie to\n register for the trip and take the physical for her. She'd had to lie\n to Nellie, to make Nellie think she was brave and adventurous, and that\n she was just doing it to surprise Jack. \n\n   Oh, he'd be surprised, all right. \n\n   The flash walls on the field were being raised to keep the blow-by from\n the ship's jets from searing the administration building and the area\n beyond. Marcia realized with crushing suddenness that the ship was\n about to blast off in seconds. She half-rose, then sank back, biting\n her lip. Silly ... Jack had said that\u2014her fear of space was silly.\n He'd said it during the quarrel, and he'd roared at her, \"And that's\n why you want me to come back\u2014ground myself, be an Earth-lubber\u2014so I\n can spare you the anguish of sitting home wondering if I'll come back\n alive!\"  \n   And then he'd been sorry he'd shouted, and he sat by her, taking her\n chin in his hand. \"Marcia, Marcia,\" he'd said gently, \"you're so     silly    ! It's been nineteen whole years since your father died in the\n explosion of a Moon-rocket. Rocket motors just don't explode any more,\n honey! Ships travel to the Moon and back on iron-clad, mathematical\n orbits that are figured before the ship puffs a jet\u2014\" \n\n   \"The     Elsinore    ?\" She'd said it viciously, to taunt him, and something\n in her had been pleased at the dull flush that rose to his face.\n Everyone knew about the     Elsinore    , the 500-foot Moon-ferry that almost\n missed the Moon. \n\n   \"That,\" he said bitterly, \"was human damnfoolishness botching up the\n equations. Too many lobbyists have holdings on the Moon and don't\n want to risk not being able to go there in a hurry. So they haven't\n passed legislation to keep physically unfit people off spaceships.\n One of the passengers got aboard the     Elsinore    on somebody else's\n validation\u2014which meant that nobody knew he was taking endocrine\n treatments to put hair on his brainless head and restore his\u2014Oh, the     Jaywalker    !\" Jack spat in disgust. \"Anyway, he was the kind of idiot\n who never realizes that certain glandular conditions are fatal in free\n fall.\" \n\n   Even now she distinctly recalled the beginnings of the interplanetary\n cold that always seeped into the warm house when he talked about space,\n when he was about to leave her for it. And this time it was worse than\n ever before. \n\n   He went on remorselessly, \"Once the     Elsinore    reached the free-fall\n flight, where power could be shut off, the skipper had to put the\n ferry into an axial spin under power, creating artificial gravity\n to save the worthless life of that fool. So of course he lost his\n trajectory, and had to warp her in as best he could, without passing\n the Moon or crashing into it. And of course you're not listening.\" \n\n   \"It's all so dull!\" she had flared, and then, \"How can I be interested\n in what some blundering space-jockey did?\" \n\n   \"Blun\u2014Marcia, you really don't realize what that skipper did was the\n finest piece of shiphandling since mankind got off the ground.\" \n\n   \"Was it?\" she'd yawned. \"Could you do it?\" \n\n   \"I\u2014like to think I could,\" he said. \"I'd hate to have to try.\" \n\n   She'd shrugged. \"Then it can't be very difficult, darling.\" \n\n   She hadn't meant to be so cruel. Or so stupid. But when they were\n quarreling, or when he talked that repugnant, dedicated, other-world\n garble, something always went cold and furious and\u2014lonely inside her,\n and made her fight back unfairly. \n\n   After he'd gone\u2014for good, he said\u2014her anger had sustained her for a\n few weeks. Then, bleakly, she knew she'd go to the ends of Earth for\n Jack. Or even to the Moon....  \n   Sitting rigid in the tense stillness of a rocket ship that was about\n to leap from Earth, Marcia started as an officer ducked his head into\n the passenger compartment from the pilot room's deep glow. But it\n wasn't Jack. The officer's lips moved hurriedly as he counted over the\n seats. He ducked back out of sight. From the bulk-heads, the overhead,\n everywhere, came a deep, quiet rumble. Some of the passengers looked\n anxious, some excited, and some just leafed casually through magazines. \n\n   Now the brown-clad Miss Eagen was speaking from the head of the aisle. \n\n   \"Those of you who haven't been in a rocket before won't find it much\n different from being in an airplane. At the same time\u2014\" She paused,\n quiet brown eyes solemn. \"What you are about to experience is something\n that will make you proud to belong to the human race.\"  \n    That    again! thought Marcia furiously; and then all emotion left her\n but cold, ravening fear as the rumble heightened. She tried to close\n her eyes, her ears against it, but her mind wouldn't respond. She\n squirmed in her chair and found herself staring down at the field.\n It looked the way she felt\u2014flat and pale and devoid of life, with a\n monstrous structure of terror squatting in it. The scene was abruptly\n splashed with a rushing sheet of flame that darkened the daytime sky.\n Then it was torn from her vision. \n\n   It was snatched away\u2014the buildings, the trees, the roads surrounding\n the field seemed to pour in upon it, shrinking as they ran together.\n Roads dried up like parched rivers, thinning and vanishing into the\n circle of her horrified vision. A great, soft, uniform weight pressed\n her down and back; she fought it, but it was too big and too soft. \n\n   Now Earth's surface was vague and Sun-splashed. Marcia's sense of loss\n tore at her. She put up her hands, heavily, and pressed the glass as\n if she could push it out, push herself out, go back, back to Earth\n and solidity. Clouds shot by like bullets, fell away until they were\n snowflakes roiling in violet haze. Then, in the purling universe that\n had grown around the ship, Earth was a mystic circle, a shallow dish\n floating darkly and heavily below. \n\n   \"We are now,\" said Miss Eagen's calm voice, \"thirty-seven miles over\n Los Angeles.\" \n\n   After that, there was scarcely room for thought\u2014even for fear, though\n it lurked nearby, ready to leap. There was the ascent, the quiet,\n sleeplike ascent into space. Marcia very nearly forgot to breathe. She\n had been prepared for almost anything except this quality of peace and\n awe.  \n   She didn't know how long she had been sitting there, awestruck,\n spellbound, when she realized that she had to finish the job she'd\n started, and do it right now, this minute. It might already be too\n late ... she wished, suddenly, and for the very first time, that she'd\n paid more attention to Jack's ramblings about orbits and turn-over\n points and correction blasts, and all that gobbledegook. She glanced\n outside again and the sky was no longer deep blue, but black. She\n pressed herself up out of the soft chair\u2014it was difficult, because of\n the one-and-a-half gravities the ship was holding\u2014and plodded heavily\n up the aisle. Miss Eagen was just rising from the chair in which she\n sat for the take-off. \n\n   \"Miss Eagen\u2014\" \n\n   \"Yes, Mrs. Fos\u2014why, what's the matter?\" \n\n   Seeing the startled expression on the stewardess' face, Marcia realized\n she must be looking like a ghost. She put a hand to her cheek and found\n it clammy. \n\n   \"Come along,\" said Miss Eagen cheerfully. She put a firm arm around\n Marcia's shoulder. \"Just a touch of space-sickness. This way.     That's    it. We'll have you fixed up in a jiffy.\" \n\n   \"It isn't s-space sickness,\" said Marcia in a very small and very\n positive voice. She let herself be led forward, through the door and to\n the left, where there was a small and compact ship's hospital. \n\n   \"Now, now,\" said Miss Eagen briskly, \"just you lie down there, Mrs.\n Foster. Does it hurt any special place?\" \n\n   Marcia lay down gratefully. She closed her eyes tightly and said, \"I'm\n not Mrs. Foster. It doesn't hurt.\" \n\n   \"You're not\u2014\" Miss Eagen apparently decided to take one thing at a\n time. \"How do you feel?\" \n\n   \"Scared,\" said Marcia. \n\n   \"Why, what\u2014is there to be scared of?\" \n\n   \"I'm pregnant.\" \n\n   \"Well, that's no\u2014You're     what    ?\" \n\n   \"I'm Mrs. McHenry. I'm Jack's wife.\" \n\n   There was such a long pause that Marcia opened her eyes. Miss Eagen was\n looking at her levelly. She said, \"I'll have to examine you.\" \n\n   \"I know. Go ahead.\" \n\n   Miss Eagen did, swiftly and thoroughly. \"You're so right,\" she\n breathed. She went to the small sink, stripping off her rubber gloves.\n With her back to Marcia, she said, \"I'll have to tell the captain, you\n know.\" \n\n   \"I know. I'd rather ... tell him myself.\" \n\n   \"Thanks,\" said Miss Eagen flatly. Marcia felt as if she'd been slapped.\n Miss Eagen dried her hands and crossed to an intercom. \"Eagen to\n Captain.\" \n\n   \"McHenry here.\" \n\n   \"Captain McHenry, could you come back to the hospital right away?\" \n\n   \"Not right away, Sue.\"     Sue! No wonder he had found it so easy to walk\n out!    She looked at the trim girl with hating eyes. The intercom said,\n \"You know I've got course-correction computations from here to yonder.\n Give me another forty minutes.\" \n\n   \"I think,\" said Sue Eagen into the mike, \"that the computations can\n wait.\" \n\n   \"The hell you do!\" The red contact light on the intercom went out. \n\n   \"He'll be right here,\" said Miss Eagen.  \n   Marcia sat up slowly, clumsily. Miss Eagen did not offer to help.\n Marcia's hands strayed to her hair, patted it futilely. \n\n   He came in, moving fast and purposefully, as always. \"Sue, what in time\n do you think you\u2014     Marcia!    \" His dark face broke into a delighted grin\n and he put his arms out. \"You\u2014you're here\u2014     here    , on my ship!\" \n\n   \"I'm pregnant, Jack,\" she said. She put out a hand to ward him off. She\n couldn't bear the thought of his realizing what she had done while he\n had his arms around her. \n\n   \"You     are    ? You\u2014we\u2014\" He turned to Miss Eagen, who nodded once, her\n face wooden. \"Just find it out?\" \n\n   This time Miss Eagen didn't react at all, and Marcia knew that she had\n to speak up. \"No, Jack. I knew weeks ago.\" \n\n   There was no describable change in his face, but the taut skin of his\n space-tanned cheek seemed, somehow, to draw inward. His eyebrow ridges\n seemed to be more prominent, and he looked older, and very tired.\n Softly and slowly he asked, \"What in God's name made you get on the\n ship?\" \n\n   \"I had to, Jack. I had to.\" \n\n   \"Had to kill yourself?\" he demanded brutally. \"This tears it. This ties\n it up in a box with a bloody ribbon-bow. I suppose you know what this\n means\u2014what I've got to do now?\" \n\n   \"Spin ship,\" she replied immediately, and looked up at him pertly, like\n a kindergarten child who knows she has the right answer. \n\n   He groaned. \n\n   \"You said you could do it.\" \n\n   \"I can ... try,\" he said hollowly. \"But\u2014why,     why    ?\" \n\n   \"Because,\" she said bleakly, \"I learned long ago that a man grows to\n love what he has to fight for.\" \n\n   \"And you were going to make me fight for you and the child\u2014even if the\n lives of a hundred and seventy people were involved?\" \n\n   \"You said you could handle it. I thought you could.\" \n\n   \"I'll try,\" he said wearily. \"Oh, I'll try.\" He went out, dragging his\n feet, his shoulders down, without looking at her. \n\n   There was a stiff silence. Marcia looked up at Miss Eagen. \"It's true,\n you know,\" she said. \"A man grows to love the things he has to defend,\n no matter how he felt about them before.\" \n\n   The stewardess looked at her, her face registering a strange mixture of\n detachment and wonder. \"You really believe that, don't you?\" \n\n   Marcia's patience, snapped. \"You don't have to look so superior. I know\n what's bothering     you    . Well, he's     my    husband, and don't you forget\n it.\"  \n   Miss Eagen's breath hissed in. Her eyes grew bright and she shook her\n head slightly. Then she turned on her heel and went to the intercom.\n Marcia thought for a frightened moment that she was going to call Jack\n back again. Instead she dialed and said, \"Hospital to Maintenance.\n Petrucelli?\" \n\n   \"Petrucelli here.\" \n\n   \"Come up with a crescent wrench, will you, Pet?\" \n\n   Another stiff silence. A question curled into Marcia's mind and she\n asked it. \"Do you work on all these ships at one time or another?\" \n\n   Miss Eagen did not beat around the bush. \"I've been with Captain\n McHenry for three years. I hope to work with him always. I think he's\n the finest in the Service.\" \n\n   \"He\u2014th-thinks as well of you, no doubt.\" \n\n   Petrucelli lounged in, a big man, easy-going, powerful. \"What's busted,\n muscles?\" \n\n   \"Bolt the bed to the bulkhead, Pet. Mrs. McHenry\u2014I'm sorry, but you'll\n have to get up.\" \n\n   Marcia bounced resentfully off the cot and stood aside. Petrucelli\n looked at her, cocked an eyebrow, looked at Miss Eagen, and asked,\n \"Jaywalker?\" \n\n   \"Please hurry, Pet.\" She turned to Marcia. \"I've got to explain to the\n passengers that there won't be any free fall. Most of them are looking\n forward to it.\" She went out. \n\n   Marcia watched the big man work for a moment. \"Why are you putting the\n bed on the wall?\" \n\n   He looked at her and away, quickly. \"Because, lady, when we start to\n spin, that outside bulkhead is going to be     down    . Centrifugal force,\n see?\" And before she could answer him he added, \"I can't talk and work\n at the same time.\" \n\n   Feeling very much put-upon, Marcia waited silently until he was\n finished, and the bed hung ludicrously to the wall like a walking fly.\n She thanked him timidly, and he ignored it and went out. \n\n   Miss Eagen returned. \n\n   \"That man was very rude,\" said Marcia. \n\n   Miss Eagen looked at her coolly. \"I'm sorry,\" she said, obviously not\n meaning sorry at all. \n\n   Marcia wet her lips. \"I asked you a question before,\" she said evenly.\n \"About you and the captain.\" \n\n   \"You did,\" said Sue Eagen. \"Please don't.\" \n\n   \"And why not?\" \n\n   \"Because,\" said Miss Eagen, and in that moment she looked almost as\n drawn as Jack had, \"I'm supposed to be of service to the passengers at\n all times no matter what. If I have feelings at all, part of my job is\n to keep them to myself.\" \n\n   \"Very courteous, I'm sure. However, I want to release you from your\n sense of duty. I'm     most    interested in what you have to say.\" \n\n   Miss Eagen's arched nostrils seemed pinched and white. \"You really want\n me to speak my piece?\"  \n   In answer Marcia leaned back against the bulkhead and folded her arms.\n Miss Eagen gazed at her for a moment, nodded as if to herself, and\n said, \"I suppose there always will be people who don't pay attention\n to the rules. Jaywalkers. But out here jaywalkers don't have as much\n margin for error as they do crossing against a traffic light on Earth.\"\n She looked Marcia straight in the eye. \"What makes a jaywalker isn't\n ignorance. It's a combination of stupidity and stubbornness. The\n jaywalker does     know    better. In your case....\" \n\n   She sighed. \"It's well known\u2014even by you\u2014that the free-fall condition\n has a weird effect on certain people. The human body is in an\n unprecedented situation in free fall. Biologically it has experienced\n the condition for very short periods\u2014falling out of trees, or on\n delayed parachute jumps. But it isn't constituted to take hour after\n hour of fall.\" \n\n   \"What about floating in a pool for hours?\" asked Marcia sullenly. \n\n   \"That's quite a different situation. 'Down' exists when you're\n swimming. Free-fall means that everything around you is 'up.' The\n body's reactions to free-fall go much deeper than space-nausea and a\n mild feeling of panic. When there's a glandular imbalance of certain\n kinds, the results can be drastic. Apparently some instinctual part\n of the mind reacts as if there were a violent emergency, when no\n emergency is recognized by the reasoning part of the mind. There\n are sudden floods of adrenalin; the 17-kesteroids begin spastic\n secretions; the\u2014well, it varies in individuals. But it's pretty well\n established that the results can be fatal. It kills men with prostate\n trouble\u2014sometimes. It kills women in menopause\u2014often. It kills women\n in the early stages of pregnancy\u2014     always    .\" \n\n   \"But how?\" asked Marcia, interested in spite of her resentment. \n\n   \"Convulsions. A battle royal between a glandular-level panic and a\n violent and useless effort of the will to control the situation.\n Muscles tear, working against one another. Lungs rupture and air\n is forced into the blood-stream, causing embolism and death. Not\n everything is known about it, but I would guess that pregnant women are\n especially susceptible because their protective reflexes, through and\n through, are much more easily stimulated.\" \n\n   \"And the only thing that can be done about it is to supply gravity?\" \n\n   \"Or centrifugal force (or centripetal, depending on where you're\n standing, but why be technical?)\u2014or, better yet, keep those people\n off the ships.\" \n\n   \"So now Jack will spin the ship until I'm pressed against the walls\n with the same force as gravity, and then everything will be all right.\" \n\n   \"You make it sound so simple.\" \n\n   \"There's no need to be sarcastic!\" Marcia blurted. \"Jack can do it. You\n think he can, don't you? Don't you?\" \n\n   \"He can do anything any space skipper has ever done, and more,\"\n said Sue Eagen, and her face glowed. \"But it isn't easy. Right this\n minute he's working over the computer\u2014a small, simple, ship-board\n computer\u2014working out orbital and positional and blast-intensity data\n that would be a hard nut for the giant calculators on Earth to crack.\n And he's doing it in half the time\u2014or less\u2014than it would take the\n average mathematician, because he has to; because it's a life-and-death\n matter if he makes a mistake or takes too long.\"  \n   \"But\u2014but\u2014\" \n\n   \"But what?\" Miss Eagen's composure seemed to have been blasted to\n shreds by the powerful currents of her indignation. Her eyes flashed.\n \"You mean, but why doesn't he just work the ship while it's spinning\n the same way he does when it isn't?\" \n\n   Through a growing fear, Marcia nodded mutely. \n\n   \"He'll spin the ship on its long axis,\" said the stewardess with\n exaggerated patience. \"That means that the steering jet tubes in the\n nose and tail are spinning, too. You don't just turn with a blast on\n one tube or another. The blasts have to be let off in hundreds of short\n bursts, timed to the hundredth of a second, to be able to make even a\n slight course correction. The sighting instruments are wheeling round\n and round while you're checking your position. Your fuel has to be\n calculated to the last ounce\u2014because enough fuel for a Moon flight,\n with hours of fuelless free-fall, and enough fuel for a power spin\n and course corrections while spinning, are two very different things.\n Captain McHenry won't be able to maneuver to a landing on the Moon.\n He'll do it exactly right the first time, or not at all.\" \n\n   Marcia was white and still. \"I\u2014I never\u2014\" \n\n   \"But I haven't told you the toughest part of it yet,\" Miss Eagen went\n on inexorably. \"A ship as massive as this, spinning on its long axis,\n is a pretty fair gyroscope. It doesn't want to turn. Any force that\n tries to make it turn is resisted at right angles to the force applied.\n When that force is applied momentarily from jets, as they swing into\n position and away again, the firing formulas get\u2014well, complex. And\n the ship's course and landing approach are completely new. Instead\n of letting the ship fall to the Moon, turning over and approaching\n tail-first with the main jets as brakes, Captain McHenry is going to\n have to start the spin first and go almost the whole way nose-first.\n He'll come up on the Moon obliquely, pass it, stop the spin, turn over\n once to check the speed of the ship, and once again to put the tail\n down when the Moon's gravity begins to draw us in. There'll be two\n short periods of free-fall there, but they won't be long enough to\n bother you much. And if we can do all that with the fuel we've got, it\n will be a miracle. A miracle from the brain of Captain McHenry.\" \n\n   Marcia forced herself away from the bulkhead with a small whimper of\n hurt and hatred\u2014hatred of the stars, of this knowledgeable, inspired\n girl, and\u2014even more so\u2014of herself. She darted toward the door. \n\n   Miss Eagen was beside her in an instant, a hard small hand on her arm.\n \"Where are you going?\" \n\n   \"I'm going to stop him. He can't take that chance with his ship, with\n these people....\" \n\n   \"He will and he must. You surely know your husband.\" \n\n   \"I know him as well as you do.\"  \n   Miss Eagen's firm lips shut in a thin hard line. \"Do as you like,\" she\n whispered. \"And while you're doing it\u2014think about whom he's spinning\n ship for.\" She took her hand from Marcia's arm. \n\n   Marcia twisted away and went into the corridor. \n\n   She found herself at the entrance to the pilot room. In one sweeping\n glance she saw a curved, silver board. Before it a man sat tranquilly.\n Nearer to her was Jack, hunched over the keyboard of a complex, compact\n machine, like a harried bookkeeper on the last day of the month. \n\n   Her lips formed his name, but she was silent. She watched him, his\n square, competent hands, his detached and distant face. Through the\n forward view-plate she saw a harsh, jagged line, the very edge of the\n Moon's disc. Next to it, and below, was the rear viewer, holding the\n shimmering azure shape of Earth. \n\n   \"     All Earth watches me when I work, but with your eyes.    \" \n\n   Jack had said that to her once, long ago, when he still loved her. \n\n   \"... human damnfoolishness botching up the equations....\" He had said\n that once, too. \n\n   Miss Eagen was standing by the hospital door, watching her. When Marcia\n turned away without speaking to Jack, Miss Eagen smiled and held out\n her hand. \n\n   Marcia went to her and took the hand. They went into the hospital. Miss\n Eagen didn't speak; she seemed to be waiting. \n\n   \"Yes, I know who Jack's spinning the ship for,\" said Marcia. \n\n   Miss Eagen looked an unspoken question. \n\n   Marcia said, painfully, \"He's like the Captain of the     Elsinore    . He's\n risking his life for a\u2014a stranger. A jaywalker. Not for me. Not even\n for his baby.\" \n\n   \"Does it hurt to know that?\" \n\n   Marcia looked into the smooth, strong face and said with genuine\n astonishment, \"Hurt? Oh, no! It's so\u2014so big!\" \n\n   There was a sudden thunder. Over Miss Eagen's shoulder, through the\n port, Marcia saw the stars begin to move. Miss Eagen followed her gaze.\n \"He's started the spin. You'll be all right now.\"  \n   Marcia could never recall the rest of the details of the trip. There\n was the outboard bulkhead that drew her like a magnet, increasingly,\n until suddenly it wasn't an attracting wall, but normally and naturally\n \"down.\" Then a needle, and another one, and a long period of deep\n drowsiness and unreality. \n\n   But through and through that drugged, relaxed period, Jack and the\n stars, the Moon and Sue Eagen danced and wove. Words slipped in and out\n of it like shreds of melody: \n\n   \"A man comes to love the things he has to fight for.\" And Jack\n fighting\u2014for his ship, for the Moon, for the new-building traditions\n of the great ones who would carry humanity out to the stars. \n\n   Sue Eagen was there, too, and the thing she shared with Jack. Of course\n there was something between them\u2014so big a thing that there was\n nothing for her to fear in it. \n\n   Jack and Sue Eagen had always had it, and always would have; and now\n Marcia had it too. And with understanding replacing fear, Marcia was\n free to recall that Jack had worked with Sue Eagen\u2014but it was Marcia\n that he had loved and married.  \n   There was a long time of blackness, and then a time of agony, when\n she was falling, falling, and her lungs wanted to split, explode,\n disintegrate, and someone kept saying, \"Hold tight, Marcia; hold tight\n to me,\" and she found Sue Eagen's cool strong hands in hers.  \n    Marcia. She called me Marcia.  \n   More blackness, more pain\u2014but not so much this time; and then a long,\n deep sleep. \n\n   A curved ceiling, but a new curve, and soft rose instead of the\n gunmetal-and-chrome of the ship. White sheets, a new feeling of \"down\"\n that was unlike either Earth or the ship, a novel and exhilarating\n buoyancy. And kneeling by the bed\u2014 \n\n   \"Jack!\" \n\n   \"You're all right, honey.\" \n\n   She raised herself on her elbow and looked out through the unglazed\n window at the ordered streets of the great Luna Dome. \"The Moon....\n Jack, you did it!\" \n\n   He snapped his fingers. He looked like a high-school kid. \"Nothin' to\n it.\" She could see he was very proud. Very tired, too. He reached out\n to touch her. \n\n   She drew back. \"You don't have to be sweet to me,\" she said quietly. \"I\n understand how you must feel.\" \n\n   \"Don't     have    to?\" He rose, bent over her, and slid his arms around\n her. He put his face into the shadowed warmth between her hair and her\n neck and said, \"Listen, egghead, there's no absolute scale for courage.\n We had a bad time, both of us. After it was over, and I had a chance\n to think, I used it trying to look at things through your eyes. And\n that way I found out that when you walked up that gangway, you did the\n bravest thing I've ever known anyone to do. And you did it for me. It\n doesn't matter what else happened. Sue told me a lot about you that I\n didn't know, darling. You're ... real huge for your size. As for the\n bad part of what happened\u2014nothing like it can ever happen again, can\n it?\" \n\n   He hugged her. After a time he reached down and touched her swelling\n waist. It was like a benediction. \"He'll be born on the Moon,\" he\n whispered, \"and he'll have eyes the color of all Earth when it looks\n out to the stars.\" \n\n   \"     She'll    be born on the Moon,\" corrected Marcia, \"and her name will be\n Sue, and ... and she'll be almost as good as her father.\"  \n", "source": "quality_raw", "evaluation": "exam"}
{"instructions": ["What best describes why Madison's initial feelings towards the Actuarvac were suspicious and skeptical?\n\n (A) He felt the Actuarvac will hurt the well-being of Manhattan-Universal Insurance.\n (B) He felt like he might become unemployed because of the Actuarvac.\n (C) He did not think the Actuarvac was competent enough for the job.\n (D) He wanted to continue to be favorited by McCain, but felt his favoritism was at stake because of the Actuarvac.", "What does Madison's selection in car choice after the flight tell about his physical character?\n\n (A) He is a debilitated man.\n (B) He is a very tall man.\n (C) He is an old man.\n (D) He is a very muscular man.", "Given the information in the article, is Granite City likely making false insurance claims, and why?\n\n (A) Yes, since insurance is what keeps Granite City running.\n (B) No, because crime is rampant in Granite City.\n (C) Yes, but not the type of false claims that Madison was investigating.\n (D) No, because the people of Granite City are unusually prone to accidents/injury.", "Given what was discovered in Granite City, is the Actuarvac correct in its suspicion of Granite City?\n\n (A) No, because Granite City was not making false insurance claims.\n (B) Yes, because it turns out Granite City was making false insurance claims.\n (C) No, because the Actuarvac was a highly flawed machine.\n (D) Yes, because Madison had to eventually investigate the city.", "According to Dr. Parnell, can the same fate affecting Granite City affect other places around the world?\n\n (A) Yes, because the granite being shipped to other places out of Granite City is what is causing the problems for the people.\n (B) No, because the people of Granite City are born with the mental problems that are plaguing them and cannot spread them.\n (C) Yes, because there are other places in the world exporting this same type of granite.\n (D) Yes, because Madison is already experiencing the same mental problems the people are having.", "What would best describe Madison's attitude towards Professor Parnell upon learning Parnell's reasoning for calling the people of Granite City \"subhuman\"?\n\n (A) Madison unquestionably believes Parnell's story.\n (B) Madison dismisses Parnell as a liar.\n (C) Madison is reluctant to believe Parnell.\n (D) Madison pretends to believe Parnell's story for the mean-time.", "How would Madison's perception of Granite City been different if he had not have met Professor Parnell?\n\n (A) His perception of Granite City would have been misconstrued because he would have lacked an explanation to why the people of Granite City are the way that they are.\n (B) His perception would have been unchanged because he would have figured out that Granite City was making false insurance claims on his own.\n (C) His perception of Granite City would have been much more positive without Professor Parnell's explanation of the city's grim secret. \n (D) His perception of Granite City would have stayed the same; however, he would have figured out the situation in Granite City much more quickly without Professor Parnell..", "Why did Madison investigate the manual record files prior to visiting Granite City?\n\n (A) In order to hopefully discover some red-flag indicators of insurance fraud.\n (B) To learn more about the Ozark Mountains.\n (C) To gather the necessary paperwork for his investigation.\n (D) To educate himself on the history of Granite City.", "Why did Madison drive a Rolls?\n\n (A) He was too tall for most models and disliked the business decisions of American automakers.\n (B) The manual gears were simpler to operate on the hills of Granite City.\n (C) He felt it was the only vehicle that fit his personality.\n (D) It was a good size and provided a smooth ride around the Ozark Mountains.", "What is the most likely reason for the lack of car insurance claims in Granite City?\n\n (A) The townspeople would be killed for making those kinds of claims.\n (B) The Actuarvac was more focused on large-scale claims.\n (C) The orchestrated fraud in Granite City was too complex and time-consuming to devote time to smaller claims.\n (D) It was very unsafe to drive any vehicles in Granite City.", "Why did Madison ultimately think gathering the large rock was a bad decision?\n\n (A) It would begin to affect his memory later.\n (B) It was too heavy to carry around the city.\n (C) The Professor would eventually use it to prevent him from leaving.\n (D) The gun would have been a better option for self-defense.", "Why was Madison thinking about a child eating ice cream as he investigated?\n\n (A) He was really hungry after seeing the workers' sandwich wrappers and craving something sweet.\n (B) The unique colorization of the granite looked like raspberry ice cream.\n (C) He missed his son, and eating ice cream together was a fond memory.\n (D) The haphazard way the granite was harvested and the bloody scene nearby reminded him of it.", "What is the likely cause of the proliferation of accidents in Granite City?\n\n (A) Something about the granite creates an inability to predict when an accident may occur.\n (B) The altitude of the Ozark Mountains impairs the reasoning and logic of the townspeople.\n (C) The foolishness of the city's population.\n (D) The poor construction of the city's buildings and infrastructure.", "Why does the population of Granite City want to keep their deficiency a secret?\n\n (A) They are not aware of their own psionic sterility.\n (B) They want to contaminate the entire world.\n (C) They are scared of losing their livelihood.\n (D) They are afraid bad publicity would lead to a drop in tourism.", "Why did the Professor call the people of Granite City \"subhuman\"?\n\n (A) He was exaggerating out of frustration with his inability to leave the city.\n (B) He harbored racist sentiments.\n (C) He was a member of the Ku Klux Klan.\n (D) Their psionic deficiency rendered them incapable of essential human logic and reasoning.", "Why did Madison start to believe the investigation was out of his league?\n\n (A) The odd behavior of specific townspeople made him feel uncomfortable.\n (B) He suspected there was a supernatural force at work in the quarry.\n (C) He wasn't equipped to handle claims for an entire city.\n (D) He felt there was a criminal undercurrent to the situation.", "How many words are there in this story?\n\n(A) about 4571 words\n(B) about 5323 words\n(C) about 4096 words\n(D) Sorry I don't know", "What can we infer from the longest sentence of this passage?\n\n(A)  It is almost impossible to carry on a lengthy conversation with students in Duke University\n(B) The speaker believes American cars are too small\n(C) The speaker feels American cars have transitioned from passenger cars to cargo trucks\n(D) the two-month-old machine was literate and could read typewriting", "Who spoke the longest dialogue (one turn) in this story?\n\n(A) Parnell\n(B) McCain\n(C) \"I\" (the one who tells the story)\n(D) Thompson"], "outputs": ["(B) He felt like he might become unemployed because of the Actuarvac.", "(B) He is a very tall man.", "(D) No, because the people of Granite City are unusually prone to accidents/injury.", "(A) No, because Granite City was not making false insurance claims.", "(A) Yes, because the granite being shipped to other places out of Granite City is what is causing the problems for the people.", "(C) Madison is reluctant to believe Parnell.", "(A) His perception of Granite City would have been misconstrued because he would have lacked an explanation to why the people of Granite City are the way that they are.", "(A) In order to hopefully discover some red-flag indicators of insurance fraud.", "(A) He was too tall for most models and disliked the business decisions of American automakers.", "(D) It was very unsafe to drive any vehicles in Granite City.", "(A) It would begin to affect his memory later.", "(D) The haphazard way the granite was harvested and the bloody scene nearby reminded him of it.", "(A) Something about the granite creates an inability to predict when an accident may occur.", "(C) They are scared of losing their livelihood.", "(D) Their psionic deficiency rendered them incapable of essential human logic and reasoning.", "(D) He felt there was a criminal undercurrent to the situation.", "(A) about 4571 words\n", "(C) The speaker feels American cars have transitioned from passenger cars to cargo trucks\n", "(A) Parnell\n"], "input": "DANGEROUS QUARRY \n\n   BY JIM HARMON \n\n   One little village couldn't have    a monopoly on all the bad breaks    in the world. They did, though! \n\n   They say automation makes jobs, especially if \"they\" are trying to keep\n their own job of selling automation machines. I know the Actuarvac made\n one purple passion of a job for me, the unpleasantly fatal results of\n which are still lingering with me. \n\n   Thad McCain, my boss at Manhattan-Universal Insurance, beamed over\n the sprawling automatic brain's silver gauges and plastic toggles as\n proudly as if he had just personally gave birth to it. \"This will\n simplify your job to the point of a pleasant diversion, Madison.\" \n\n   \"Are you going to keep paying me for staying with my little hobby?\" I\n asked, suspiciously eyeing my chrome competitor. \n\n   \"The Actuarvac poses no threat to your career. It will merely keep you\n from flying off on wild-goose chases. It will unvaryingly separate from\n the vast body of legitimate claims the phony ones they try to spike us\n for. Then all that remains is for you to gather the accessory details,\n the evidence to jail our erring customers.\" \n\n   \"Fine,\" I said. I didn't bother to inform him that that was all my job\n had ever been. \n\n   McCain shuffled his cards. They were cards for the machine, listing new\n individual claims on company policies. Since the two-month-old machine\n was literate and could read typewriting, the cards weren't coded or\n punched. He read the top one. \"Now this, for instance. No adjuster\n need investigate this accident. The circumstances obviously are such\n that no false claim could be filed. Of course, the brain will make\n an unfailing analysis of all the factors involved and clear the claim\n automatically and officially.\" \n\n   McCain threaded the single card into the slot for an example to me.\n He then flicked the switch and we stood there watching the monster\n ruminate thoughtfully. It finally rang a bell and spit the card back at\n Manhattan-Universal's top junior vice-president. \n\n   He took it like a man. \n\n   \"That's what the machine is for,\" he said philosophically. \"To detect\n human error. Hmm. What kind of a shove do you get out of this?\" \n\n   He handed me the rejected claim card. I took it, finding a new, neatly\n typed notation on it. It said: \n\n   Investigate the Ozark village of Granite City. \n\n   \"You want me to project it in a movie theater and see how it stands it\n all alone in the dark?\" I asked. \n\n   \"Just circle up the wagon train and see how the Indians fall,\" McCain\n said anxiously. \n\n   \"It's too general. What does the nickel-brained machine mean by\n investigating a whole town? I don't know if it has crooked politics,\n a polygamy colony or a hideout for supposedly deported gangsters. I\n don't care much either. It's not my business. How could a whole town be\n filing false life and accident claims?\" \n\n   \"Find that out,\" he said. \"I trust the machine. There have been cases\n of mass collusion before. Until you get back, we are making no more\n settlements with that settlement.\"  \n   Research. To a writer that generally means legally permissible\n plagiarism. For an insurance adjuster, it means earnest work. \n\n   Before I headed for the hills, or the Ozark Mountains, I walked a few\n hundred feet down the hall and into the manual record files. The brain\n abstracted from empirical data but before I planed out to Granite City\n I had to find the basis for a few practical, nasty suspicions. \n\n   Four hours of flipping switches and looking at microfilm projections\n while a tawny redhead in a triangular fronted uniform carried me reels\n to order gave me only two ideas. Neither was very original. The one\n that concerned business was that the whole village of Granite City must\n be accident-prone. \n\n   I rejected that one almost immediately. While an accident-prone was\n in himself a statistical anomaly, the idea of a whole town of them\n gathered together stretched the fabric of reality to the point where\n even an invisible re-weaver couldn't help it. \n\n   There was an explanation for the recent rise in the accident rate down\n there. The rock quarry there had gone into high-level operation. I\n knew why from the floor, walls, ceiling border, table trimmings in the\n records room. They were all granite. The boom in granite for interior\n and exterior decoration eclipsed earlier periods of oak, plastics,\n wrought iron and baked clay completely. The distinctive grade of\n granite from Granite City was being put into use all over the planet\n and in the Officer's Clubs on the Moon and Mars. \n\n   Yet the rise in accident, compared to the rise in production, was out\n of all proportion. \n\n   Furthermore, the work at the quarry could hardly explain the excessive\n accident reports we had had from the village as far back as our records\n went. \n\n   We had paid off on most of the claims since they seemed irrefutably\n genuine. All were complete with eye-witness reports and authenticated\n circumstances. \n\n   There was one odd note in the melodic scheme: We had never had a claim\n for any kind of automobile accident from Granite City. \n\n   I shut off the projector. \n\n   It may be best to keep an open mind, but I have found in practice that\n you have to have some kind of working theory which you must proceed to\n prove is either right or wrong. \n\n   Tentatively, I decided that for generations the citizens of\n Granite City had been in an organized conspiracy to defraud\n Manhattan-Universal and its predecessors of hundreds upon hundreds of\n thousands of dollars in false accident claims. \n\n   Maybe they made their whole livelihood off us before the quarry opened\n up. \n\n   I used my pocket innercom and had my secretary get me a plane\n reservation and a gun. \n\n   After so many profitable decades, Granite City wasn't going to take\n kindly to my spoil-sport interference.  \n   The Absinthe Flight to Springfield was jolly and relatively fast.\n Despite headwinds we managed Mach 1.6 most of the way. My particular\n stewardess was a blonde, majoring in Video Psychotherapy in her night\n courses. I didn't have much time to get acquainted or more than hear\n the outline of her thesis on the guilt purgings effected by The Life\n and Legend of Gary Cooper. The paunchy businessman in the next lounge\n was already nibbling the ear of his red-haired hostess. He was the\n type of razorback who took the girls for granted and aimed to get his\n money's worth. I gave Helen, the blonde, a kiss on the cheek and began\n flipping through the facsimiles in my briefcase as we chute-braked for\n a landing at the Greater Ozarks. \n\n   It took me a full five minutes to find out that I couldn't take a\n copter to Granite City. Something about downdrafts in the mountains. \n\n   Since that put me back in the days of horsepower, I trotted over to the\n automobile rental and hired a few hundred of them under the hood of a\n Rolls. That was about the only brand of car that fit me. I hadn't been\n able to get my legs into any other foreign car since I was fifteen,\n and I have steadfastly refused to enter an American model since they\n all sold out their birthrights as passenger cars and went over to the\n tractor-trailer combinations they used only for cargo trucks when I was\n a boy. Dragging around thirty feet of car is sheer nonsense, even for\n prestige. \n\n   It was a tiresome fifty-mile drive, on manual all the way after I left\n the radar-channel area of the city. Up and down, slowing for curves,\n flipping into second for the hills. \n\n   The whole trip hardly seemed worth it when I saw the cluster of\n painted frame buildings that was Granite City. They looked like a\n tumble of dingy building blocks tossed in front of a rolled-up indigo\n sports shirt. That was Granite Mountain in the near foreground. But I\n remembered that over the course of some forty years the people in these\n few little stacks of lumber had taken Manhattan-Universal for three\n quarters of a megabuck. \n\n   I turned off onto the gravel road, spraying my fenders with a hail of\n a racket. Then I stepped down hard on my brakes, bracing myself to keep\n from going through the windscreen. I had almost sideswiped an old man\n sitting at the side of the road, huddled in his dusty rags. \n\n   \"Are you okay?\" I yelled, thumbing down the window. \n\n   \"I've suffered no harm at your hands\u2014or your wheels, sir. But I could\n use some help,\" the old man said. \"Could I trouble you for a lift when\n you leave town?\" \n\n   I wasn't too sure about that. Most of these guys who are on the hobo\n circuit talking like they owned some letters to their names besides\n their initials belonged to some cult or other. I try to be as tolerant\n as I can, and some of my best friends are thugs, but I don't want to\n drive with them down lonely mountain roads. \n\n   \"We'll see what we can work out,\" I said. \"Right now can you tell me\n where I can find Marshal Thompson?\" \n\n   \"I can,\" he said. \"But you will have to walk there.\" \n\n   \"Okay. It shouldn't be much of a walk in Granite City.\" \n\n   \"It's the house at the end of the street.\" \n\n   \"It is,\" I said. \"Why shouldn't I drive up there? The street's open.\" \n\n   The old man stared at me with red-shot eyes. \"Marshal Thompson doesn't\n like people to run automobiles on the streets of Granite City.\" \n\n   \"So I'll just     lock    the car up and walk over there. I couldn't go\n getting tire tracks all over your clean streets.\" \n\n   The old man watched as I climbed down and locked up the Rolls. \n\n   \"You would probably get killed if you did run the car here, you know,\"\n he said conversationally. \n\n   \"Well,\" I said, \"I'll be getting along.\" I tried to walk sideways so I\n could keep an eye on him. \n\n   \"Come back,\" he said, as if he had doubts.  \n   The signs of a menacing conspiracy were growing stronger, I felt. I\n had my automatic inside my shirt, but I decided I might need a less\n lethal means of expression. Without breaking stride, I scooped up a\n baseball-size hunk of bluish rock from the road and slipped it into my\n small change pocket. \n\n   I have made smarter moves in my time.  \n   As I approached the house at the end of the lane, I saw it was about\n the worse construction job I had seen in my life. It looked as\n architecturally secure as a four-year-old's drawing of his home. The\n angles were measurably out of line. Around every nail head were two\n nails bent out of shape and hammered down, and a couple of dozen welts\n in the siding where the hammer had missed any nail. The paint job was\n spotty and streaked. Half the panes in the windows were cracked. I\n fought down the dust in my nose, afraid of the consequences of a sneeze\n to the place. \n\n   My toe scuffed the top porch step and I nearly crashed face first into\n the front door. I had been too busy looking at the house, I decided. I\n knocked. \n\n   Moments later, the door opened. \n\n   The lean-faced man who greeted me had his cheeks crisscrossed with\n razor nicks and his shirt on wrong side out. But his eyes were bright\n and sparrow alert. \n\n   \"Are you Mr. Marshal Thompson, the agent for Manhattan-Universal\n Insurance?\" I put to him. \n\n   \"I'm     the    marshal, name of Thompson. But you ain't the first to take\n my title for my Christian name. You from the company?\" \n\n   \"Yes,\" I said. \"Were you expecting me?\" \n\n   Thompson nodded. \"For forty-one years.\"  \n   Thompson served the coffee in the chipped cups, favoring only slightly\n his burned fingers. \n\n   Catching the direction of my glance, he said, \"Company is worth a few\n scalds, Mr. Madison.\" \n\n   I accepted the steaming cup and somehow it very nearly slipped out of\n my hands. I made a last microsecond retrieve. \n\n   The marshal nodded thoughtfully. \"You're new here.\" \n\n   \"First time,\" I said, sipping coffee. It was awful. He must have made a\n mistake and put salt into it instead of sugar. \n\n   \"You think the claims I've been filing for my people are false?\" \n\n   \"The home office has some suspicions of that,\" I admitted. \n\n   \"I don't blame them, but they ain't. Look, the company gambles on luck,\n doesn't it?\" \n\n   \"No. It works on percentages calculated from past experience.\" \n\n   \"But I mean it knows that there will be, say, a hundred fatal car\n crashes in a day. But it doesn't know if maybe ninety of them will be\n in Iowa and only ten in the rest of the country.\" \n\n   \"There's something to that. We call it probability, not luck.\" \n\n   \"Well, probability says that more accidents are going to occur in\n Granite City than anywhere else in the country, per capita.\" \n\n   I shook my head at Thompson. \"That's not probability. Theoretically,\n anything can happen but I don't\u2014I can't\u2014believe that in this town\n everybody has chanced to be an accident prone. Some other factor is\n operating. You are all deliberately faking these falls and fires\u2014\" \n\n   \"We're not,\" Thompson snapped. \n\n   \"Or else something is causing you to have this trouble. Maybe the\n whole town is a bunch of dope addicts. Maybe you grow your own mescalin\n or marijuana; it's happened before.\" \n\n   Thompson laughed. \n\n   \"Whatever is going on, I'm going to find it out. I don't care what you\n do, but if I can find a greater risk here and prove it, the Commission\n will let us up our rates for this town. Probably beyond the capacity of\n these people, I'm afraid.\" \n\n   \"That would be a real tragedy, Mr. Madison. Insurance is vital to this\n town. Nobody could survive a year here without insurance. People pay me\n for their premiums before they pay their grocery bills.\" \n\n   I shrugged, sorrier than I could let on. \"I won't be able to pay for\n my own groceries, marshal, if I don't do the kind of job the company\n expects. I'm going to snoop around.\" \n\n   \"All right,\" he said grudgingly, \"but you'll have to do it on foot.\" \n\n   \"Yes, I understood you didn't like cars on your streets. At least not\n the cars of outsiders.\" \n\n   \"That doesn't have anything to do with it. Nobody in Granite City owns\n a car. It would be suicide for anybody to drive a car, same as it would\n be to have a gas or oil stove, instead of coal, or to own a bathtub.\" \n\n   I took a deep breath. \n\n   \"Showers,\" Thompson said. \"With nonskid mats and handrails.\" \n\n   I shook hands with him. \"You've been a great help.\" \n\n   \"Four o'clock,\" he said. \"Roads are treacherous at night.\" \n\n   \"There's always a dawn.\" \n\n   Thompson met my eyes. \"That's not quite how we look at it here.\"  \n   II \n\n   The quarry was a mess. \n\n   I couldn't see any in the way they sliced the granite out of the\n mountain. The idea of a four-year-old\u2014a four-year-old moron\u2014going\n after a mound of raspberry ice cream kept turning up in my mind as I\n walked around. \n\n   The workmen were gone; it was after five local time. But here and\n there I saw traces of them. Some of them were sandwich wrappers and\n cigarette stubs, but most of the traces were smears of blood. Blood\n streaked across sharp rocks, blood oozing from beneath heavy rocks,\n blood smeared on the handles and working surfaces of sledge hammers and\n tools. The place was as gory as a battlefield. \n\n   \"What are you looking for, bud?\" \n\n   The low, level snarl had come from a burly character in a syn-leather\n jacket and narrow-brimmed Stetson. \n\n   \"The reason you have so many accidents here,\" I said frankly. \"I'm from\n the insurance company. Name's Madison.\" \n\n   \"Yeah, I know.\" \n\n   I had supposed he would. \n\n   \"I'm Kelvin, the foreman here,\" the big man told me, extending a ham of\n a fist to be shook. \"Outside, doing my Army time, I noticed that most\n people don't have as many slipups as we do here. Never could figure it\n out.\" \n\n   \"This rock is part of it\u2014\" \n\n   \"What do you mean by that!\" Kelvin demanded savagely. \n\n   \"I mean the way you work it. No system to it. No stratification, no\n plateau work...\" \n\n   \"Listen, Madison, don't talk about what you don't know anything\n about. The stuff in these walls isn't just rock; it isn't even plain\n granite. Granite City exports some of the finest grade of the stone in\n the world. And it's used all over the world. We aren't just a bunch\n of meatheaded ditch diggers\u2014we are craftsmen. We have to figure a\n different way of getting out every piece of stone.\" \n\n   \"It's too bad.\" \n\n   \"What's too bad?\" \n\n   \"That you chose the wrong way so often,\" I said. \n\n   Kelvin breathed a virile grade of tobacco into my face. \"Listen,\n Madison, we have been working this quarry for generations, sometimes\n more of us working than other times. Today most of us are working\n getting the stone out. That's the way we like it. We don't want any\n outsider coming in and interfering with that.\" \n\n   \"If this quarry has anything to do with defrauding Manhattan-Universal,\n I can tell you that I will do something about that!\" \n\n   As soon as my teeth clicked back together, the sickening feeling hit me\n that I shouldn't have said that.  \n   The general store was called a supermarket, but it wasn't particularly\n superior. \n\n   I took a seat at the soda fountain and took a beer, politely declining\n the teen-age clerk's offer of a shot of white lightning from the\n Pepsi-Cola fountain syrup jug for a quarter. \n\n   Behind me were three restaurant tables and one solitary red-upholstered\n booth. Two men somewhere between forty and sixty sat at the nearest\n table playing twenty-one. \n\n   Over the foam of my stein I saw the old man I had almost run down in\n the road. He marched through the two-thirds of the building composed of\n rows of can goods and approached the fat man at the cash register. \n\n   \"Hello, Professor,\" the fat man said. \"What can we do for you?\" \n\n   \"I'd like to mail a letter,\" he said in an urgent voice. \n\n   \"Sure, Professor, I'll send it right off on the facsimile machine as\n soon as I get a free moment.\" \n\n   \"You're sure you can send it? Right away?\" \n\n   \"Positive. Ten cents, Professor.\" \n\n   The professor fumbled in his pants' pocket and fished out a dime. He\n fingered it thoughtfully. \n\n   \"I suppose the letter can wait,\" he said resignedly. \"I believe I will\n buy a pair of doughnuts, Mr. Haskel.\" \n\n   \"Why not get a hamburger, Professor? Special sale today. Only a dime.\n And since you're such a good customer I'll throw in a cup of coffee and\n the two sinkers for nothing.\" \n\n   \"That's\u2014kind of you,\" the old man said awkwardly. \n\n   Haskel shrugged. \"A man has to eat.\" \n\n   The man called \"the professor\" came over and sat down two stools away,\n ignoring me. The clerk dialed his hamburger and served it. \n\n   I stayed with my beer and my thoughts. \n\n   More and more, I was coming to believe that Granite City wasn't a job\n for an investigative adjuster like myself but a psychological adjuster.\n Crime is a structural flaw in a community, yes. But when the whole\n society is criminal, distorted, you can't isolate the flaw. The whole\n village was meat for a sociologist; let him figure out why otherwise\n decent citizens felt secure in conspiracy to defraud an honored\n corporation. \n\n   I didn't feel that I was licked or that the trip had been a failure.\n I had merely established to my intuitive satisfaction that the job was\n not in my field. \n\n   I glanced at the old man. The proprietor of the store knew him and\n evidently thought him harmless enough to feed. \n\n   \"I think I can make it down the mountain before dark, Old Timer,\" I\n called over to him. \"You can come along if you like.\" \n\n   The acne-faced kid behind the counter stared at me. I looked over and\n caught the bright little eyes of Haskel, the proprietor, too. Finally,\n the old professor turned on his stool, his face pale and his eyes sad\n and resigned. \n\n   \"I doubt very much if either of us will be leaving, Mr. Madison,\" he\n said. \"Now.\"  \n   I took my beer and the professor his coffee over to the single booth.\n We looked at each other across the shiny table and our beverage\n containers. \n\n   \"I am Doctor Arnold Parnell of Duke University,\" the professor said. \"I\n left on my sabbatical five months ago. I have been here ever since.\" \n\n   I looked at his clothes. \"You must not have been very well fixed for a\n year's vacation, Professor.\" \n\n   \"I,\" he said, \"have enough traveler's checks with me to paper a\n washroom. Nobody in this town will cash them for me.\" \n\n   \"I can understand why you want to go somewhere where people are more\n trusting in that case.\" \n\n   \"They know the checks are good. It's     me    they refuse to trust to leave\n this place. They think they     can't    let me go.\" \n\n   \"I don't see any shackles on you,\" I remarked. \n\n   \"Just because you can't see them,\" he growled, \"doesn't mean they\n aren't there. Marshal Thompson has the only telephone in the village.\n He has politely refused to let me use it. I'm a suspicious and\n undesirable character; he's under no obligation to give me telephone\n privileges, he says. Haskel has the Post Office concession\u2014the Telefax\n outfit behind the money box over there. He takes my letters but I never\n see him send them off. And I never get a reply.\" \n\n   \"Unfriendly of them,\" I said conservatively. \"But how can they stop you\n from packing your dental floss and cutting out?\" \n\n   \"Haskel has the only motor vehicle in town\u2014a half-ton pick-up, a\n minuscule contrivance less than the size of a passenger car. He makes\n about one trip a week down into the city for supplies and package mail.\n He's been the only one in or out of Granite City for five months.\" \n\n   It seemed incredible\u2014more than that, unlikely, to me. \"How about the\n granite itself? How do they ship it out?\" \n\n   \"It's an artificial demand product, like diamonds,\" Professor Parnell\n said. \"They stockpile it and once a year the executive offices for the\n company back in Nashville runs in a portable monorail railroad up the\n side of the mountain to take it out. That won't be for another four\n months, as nearly as I can find out. I may not last that long.\" \n\n   \"How are you living?\" I asked. \"If they won't take your checks\u2014\" \n\n   \"I do odd jobs for people. They feed me, give me a little money\n sometimes.\" \n\n   \"I can see why you want to ride out with me,\" I said. \"Haven't you ever\n thought of just     walking    out?\" \n\n   \"Fifty miles down a steep mountain road? I'm an old man, Mr. Madison,\n and I've gotten even older since I came to Granite City.\" \n\n   I nodded. \"You have any papers, any identification, to back this up?\" \n\n   Wordlessly, he handed over his billfold, letters, enough identification\n to have satisfied Allen Pinkerton or John Edgar Hoover. \n\n   \"Okay,\" I drawled. \"I'll accept your story for the moment. Now answer\n me the big query: Why are the good people of Granite City doing this to\n you? By any chance, you wouldn't happen to know of a mass fraud they\n are perpetrating on Manhattan-Universal?\" \n\n   \"I know nothing of their ethical standards,\" Parnell said, \"but I do\n know that they are absolutely     subhuman    !\" \n\n   \"I admit I have met likelier groups of human beings in my time.\" \n\n   \"No, understand me. These people are literally subhuman\u2014they are\n inferior to other human beings.\" \n\n   \"Look, I know the Klan is a growing organization but I can't go along\n with you.\" \n\n   \"Madison, understand me, I insist. Ethnologically speaking, it is well\n known that certain tribes suffer certain deficiencies due to diet,\n climate, et cetera. Some can't run, sing, use mathematics. The people\n of Granite City have the most unusual deficency on record, I admit.\n Their     psionic    senses have been impaired. They are completely devoid\n of any use of telepathy, precognition, telekinesis.\"  \n   \"Because they aren't supermen, that doesn't mean that they are submen,\"\n I protested. \"I don't have any psionic abilities either.\" \n\n   \"But you do!\" Parnell said earnestly. \"Everybody has some psionics\n ability, but we don't realize it. We don't have the fabulous abilities\n of a few recorded cases of supermen, but we have some, a trace. Granite\n City citizens have     no    psionic ability whatsoever, not even the little\n that you and I and the rest of the world have!\" \n\n   \"You said you were Duke University, didn't you?\" I mused. \"Maybe you\n know what you are talking about; I've never been sure. But these\n people can't suffer very much from their lack of what you call psi\n ability.\" \n\n   \"I tell you they do,\" he said hoarsely. \"We never realize it but we all\n have some power of precognition. If we didn't, we would have a hundred\n accidents a day\u2014just as these people     do    . They can't foresee the\n bump in the road the way we can, or that that particular match will\n flare a little higher and burn their fingers. There are other things,\n as well. You'll find it is almost impossible to carry on a lengthy\n conversation with any of them\u2014they have no telepathic ability, no\n matter how slight, to see through the semantic barrier. None of them\n can play ball. They don't have the unconscious psionic ability to\n influence the ball in flight. All of us can do that, even if the case\n of a 'Poltergeist' who can lift objects is rare.\" \n\n   \"Professor, you mean these people are holding you here simply so you\n won't go out and tell the rest of the world that they are submen?\" \n\n   \"They don't want the world to know     why    they are psionically\n subnormal,\" he said crisply. \"It's the     granite    ! I don't understand\n why myself. I'm not a physicist or a biologist. But for some reason the\n heavy concentration and particular pattern of the radioactive radiation\n in its matrix is responsible for both inhibiting the genes that\n transmit psi powers from generation to generation     and    affecting those\n abilities in the present generation. A kind of psionic sterility.\" \n\n   \"How do you know this?\" \n\n   \"We haven't the time for all that. But think about it. What else     could    it be? It's that granite that they are shipping all over the\n world, spreading the contamination. I want to stop that contamination.\n To the people of Granite City that means ruining their only industry,\n putting them all out of work. They are used to this psionic sterility;\n they don't see anything so bad about it. Besides, like everybody else,\n they have some doubts that there really are such things as telepathy\n and the rest to be affected.\" \n\n   \"Frankly,\" I said, hedging only a little, \"I don't know what to\n make of your story. This is something to be decided by somebody\n infallible\u2014like the Pope or the President or Board Chairman of\n Manhattan-Universal. But the first thing to do is get you out of here.\n We had better get back to my car. I've got good lights to get down the\n mountain.\" \n\n   Parnell jumped up eagerly, and brushed over his china mug, staining the\n tabletop with brown caffeine. \n\n   \"Sorry,\" he said. \"I should have been precognizant of that. I try to\n stay away from the rock as much as possible, but it's getting to me.\" \n\n   I should have remembered something then. But, naturally, I didn't. \n\n   ", "source": "quality_raw", "evaluation": "exam"}
{"instructions": ["How would one describe Emerald Star Hotel?\n\n (A) An uncomfortable and unrelaxing hotel meant for short stays.\n (B) A place made for business conferences.\n (C) A place just like a hospital.\n (D) An upscale and high-tech retreat.", "By the end of the article, would Harper's opinion of Mrs. Jacobsen at the front desk be different?\n\n (A) No, because he did not have the same issue with the robots that she had.\n (B) No, because he would still believe that her complaints were unreasonable.\n (C) Yes, because he also believes the hotel is overpriced.\n (D) Yes, because Harper also had a frustrating experience with the robots.", "How did Harper's opinion on the place of robots in the workforce change by the end of the article?\n\n (A) He would think that it was not the robots that had problems at the hotel. Instead, it was the human management of the hotel causing the problems.\n (B) He would believe that robots do not operate well in hotels, but they have the potential to work well in other service jobs.\n (C) He would believe that robots do not excel in customer service, and they are better at less personable jobs.\n (D) He would think robots should not be employed in any area of the workforce.", "Though the robots were the main issue at the hotel, was human error still an issue in Harper's overall stay?\n\n (A) Yes, because Harper was continuously bothered by complaining patrons.\n (B) No, because the robots were the ones causing all the issues and complaints.\n (C) No, because humans were not involved in the hotel's main matters.\n (D) Yes, because the human desk clerk had given him the wrong room.", "How did Harper and Jake Ellis intend to have different experiences during their stay at the hotel?\n\n (A) Jake Ellis wanted to receive wellness treatments while Harper simply wanted an uninterrupted stay.\n (B) Jake Ellis intended to make business deals while on vacation while Harper intended to relax.\n (C) Harper had intended on meeting Jake Ellis to buy his company, while Jake Ellis did not plan to meet him.\n (D) Only Harper was assigned the wrong room and received the wrong treatment during his stay.", "Why was Harper able to buy the hotel's robots for such a cheap price?\n\n (A) Harper befriended the hotel manager and convinced him to sell the robots to him for cheap.\n (B) The hotel could not find anyone other than Harper to sell the robots to.\n (C) Harper had threatened to put the hotel out of business if they did not sell the robots to him.\n (D) The hotel was failing, so the company was happy to get rid of the robots.", "What was Harper's most likely work with the equatorial wells before they sank?\n\n (A) Treating Martian liquids for commercial use.\n (B) Bolstering the Martian tourist economy.\n (C) Converting the wells into curative springs.\n (D) Sourcing water on Mars.", "Why did Harper change his tone regarding a vacation to Mars?\n\n (A) He wanted to see the beautiful Emerald Star hotel.\n (B) He was worried about the robots staffing the hotel.\n (C) Bella convinced him he could benefit from some curative rest and relaxation.\n (D) He realized he could profit from a scientific breakthrough.", "Why was Harper strongly in favor of automation?\n\n (A) New technology was a sign of sophistication.\n (B) He appreciated machine silence and accuracy.\n (C) He wanted to do less work and maximize profits.\n (D) It potentially would save him a lot of money.", "Why did Harper think of Mrs. Jacobsen when the two robots came to his room?\n\n (A) One of the robots looked like her.\n (B) He scoffed again at her irritation with the robots. \n (C) He realized the man standing behind him in line was her husband.\n (D) He was starting to agree that human customer service might be preferable to robots.", "Why did the two robots sedate Harper in his room?\n\n (A) They were going to put him through an intense fitness, diet, and sleep regimen he had requested.\n (B) They thought he was Jake Ellis.\n (C) They realized he wanted to take advantage of them for his own profit.\n (D) They didn't like him and wanted to scare him.", "Why did the clerk start mentally preparing his resignation?\n\n (A) He had been hired for another job.\n (B) The robot security guards had lost control.\n (C) He would be blamed for the mess Harper created during his outburst.\n (D) He was tired of working at the hotel.", "Why did Hayes want to resign?\n\n (A) Operation Robot was a failed experiment and had lost too much money.\n (B) He was tired of dealing with unruly guests.\n (C) He felt robots were illogical compared to humans.\n (D) He refused to learn how to live with robots.", "How did Harper satisfy his ambitions and solve Hayes' problems?\n\n (A) He traded out the factory workers for robots, and the factory workers took over the hotel jobs.\n (B) He fired all of the factory workers and replaced them with robots.\n (C) He purchased a controlling interest in Operation Robot.\n (D) He harvested all the fungal enzymes for his company.", "How did Harper thank Scribney for having \"rung the bell\"?\n\n (A) He felt he owed him and promised to reward him in the future.\n (B) He hired him to work as superintendent of a factory at Hagerty's Enzymes.\n (C) He gave him a large stock in Hagerty's Enzymes.\n (D) He squeezed his arm and smiled at him - a rarity for a man like Harper.", "How many sentences are there in this story?\n\n(A) about  399\n(B) about 454\n(C) about  508\n(D) about 421", "What can we infer from the longest sentence in this passage?\n\n(A) Clerk was about to deposit a card in the punch box before he was interrupted.\n(B) Harper rudely snatched the magazine from Scribney's hands.\n(C) Scribney had gauged his victim's mental processes accurately. \n(D) Harper beckoned authoritatively to the clerk. ", "How many nouns are there in the longest sentence of this story?\n\n(A) 12\n(B) 9\n(C) 16\n(D) 20"], "outputs": ["(D) An upscale and high-tech retreat.", "(D) Yes, because Harper also had a frustrating experience with the robots.", "(C) He would believe that robots do not excel in customer service, and they are better at less personable jobs.", "(D) Yes, because the human desk clerk had given him the wrong room.", "(A) Jake Ellis wanted to receive wellness treatments while Harper simply wanted an uninterrupted stay.", "(D) The hotel was failing, so the company was happy to get rid of the robots.", "(D) Sourcing water on Mars.", "(D) He realized he could profit from a scientific breakthrough.", "(B) He appreciated machine silence and accuracy.", "(D) He was starting to agree that human customer service might be preferable to robots.", "(B) They thought he was Jake Ellis.", "(C) He would be blamed for the mess Harper created during his outburst.", "(A) Operation Robot was a failed experiment and had lost too much money.", "(A) He traded out the factory workers for robots, and the factory workers took over the hotel jobs.", "(C) He gave him a large stock in Hagerty's Enzymes.", "(C) about  508\n", "(A)  Clerk was about to deposit a card in the punch box before he was interrupted.\n", "(A) 12"], "input": "HAGERTY'S ENZYMES \n\n   By A. L. HALEY  \n    There's a place for every man and a man for     every place, but on robot-harried Mars the     situation was just a little different.  \n   Harper Breen sank down gingerly into the new Relaxo-Lounge. He placed\n twitching hands on the arm-rests and laid his head back stiffly. He\n closed his fluttering eyelids and clamped his mouth to keep the corner\n from jumping. \n\n   \"Just lie back, Harp,\" droned his sister soothingly. \"Just give in and\n let go of everything.\" \n\n   Harper tried to let go of everything. He gave in to the chair. And\n gently the chair went to work. It rocked rhythmically, it vibrated\n tenderly. With velvety cushions it massaged his back and arms and legs. \n\n   For all of five minutes Harper stood it. Then with a frenzied lunge\n he escaped the embrace of the Relaxo-Lounge and fled to a gloriously\n stationary sofa. \n\n   \"Harp!\" His sister, Bella, was ready to weep with exasperation. \"Dr.\n Franz said it would be just the thing for you! Why won't you give it a\n trial?\" \n\n   Harper glared at the preposterous chair. \"Franz!\" he snarled. \"That\n prize fathead! I've paid him a fortune in fees. I haven't slept for\n weeks. I can't eat anything but soup. My nerves are jangling like\n a four-alarm fire. And what does he prescribe? A blasted jiggling\n baby carriage! Why, I ought to send him the bill for it!\" Completely\n outraged, he lay back on the couch and closed his eyes. \n\n   \"Now, Harp, you know you've never obeyed his orders. He told you\n last year that you'd have to ease up. Why do you have to try to run\n the whole world? It's the strain of all your business worries that's\n causing your trouble. He told you to take a long vacation or you'd\n crack up. Don't blame him for your own stubbornness.\" \n\n   Harper snorted. His large nose developed the sound magnificently.\n \"Vacation!\" he snorted. \"Batting a silly ball around or dragging a hook\n after a stupid fish! Fine activities for an intelligent middle-aged\n man! And let me correct you. It isn't business worries that are driving\n me to a crack-up. It's the strain of trying to get some sensible,\n reasonable co\u00f6peration from the nincompoops I have to hire! It's the\n idiocy of the human race that's got me whipped! It's the\u2014\" \n\n   \"Hey, Harp, old man!\" His brother-in-law, turning the pages of the\n new colorama magazine, INTERPLANETARY, had paused at a double-spread.\n \"Didn't you have a finger in those Martian equatorial wells they sunk\n twenty years ago?\" \n\n   Harper's hands twitched violently. \"Don't mention that fiasco!\" he\n rasped. \"That deal nearly cost me my shirt! Water, hell! Those wells\n spewed up the craziest conglomeration of liquids ever tapped!\"  \n   Scribney, whose large, phlegmatic person and calm professorial brain\n were the complete antithesis of Harper's picked-crow physique and\n scheming financier's wits, looked severely over his glasses. Harp's\n nervous tribulations were beginning to bore him, as well as interfere\n with the harmony of his home. \n\n   \"You're away behind the times, Harp,\" he declared. \"Don't you know\n that those have proved to be the most astoundingly curative springs\n ever discovered anywhere? Don't you know that a syndicate has built\n the largest extra-terrestial hotel of the solar system there and that\n people are flocking to it to get cured of whatever ails 'em? Old man,\n you missed a bet!\" \n\n   Leaping from the sofa, Harper rudely snatched the magazine from\n Scribney's hands. He glared at the spread which depicted a star-shaped\n structure of bottle-green glass resting jewel-like on the rufous rock\n of Mars. The main portion of the building consisted of a circular\n skyscraper with a glass-domed roof. Between its star-shaped annexes,\n other domes covered landscaped gardens and noxious pools which in the\n drawing looked lovely and enticing. \n\n   \"Why, I remember now!\" exclaimed Bella. \"That's where the Durants went\n two years ago! He was about dead and she looked like a hag. They came\n back in wonderful shape. Don't you remember, Scrib?\" \n\n   Dutifully Scribney remembered and commented on the change the Martian\n springs had effected in the Durants. \"It's the very thing for you,\n Harp,\" he advised. \"You'd get a good rest on the way out. This gas\n they use in the rockets nowadays is as good as a rest-cure; it sort of\n floats you along the time-track in a pleasant daze, they tell me. And\n you can finish the cure at the hotel while looking it over. And not\n only that.\" Confidentially he leaned toward his insignificant looking\n brother-in-law. \"The chemists over at Dade McCann have just isolated an\n enzyme from one species of Martian fungus that breaks down crude oil\n into its components without the need for chemical processing. There's a\n fortune waiting for the man who corners that fungus market and learns\n to process the stuff!\" \n\n   Scribney had gauged his victim's mental processes accurately. The\n magazine sagged in Harp's hands, and his sharp eyes became shrewd and\n calculating. He even forgot to twitch. \"Maybe you're right, Scrib,\" he\n acknowledged. \"Combine a rest-cure with business, eh?\" \n\n   Raising the magazine, he began reading the advertisement. And that\n was when he saw the line about the robots. \"\u2014the only hotel staffed\n entirely with robot servants\u2014\" \n\n   \"Robots!\" he shrilled. \"You mean they've developed the things to that\n point? Why hasn't somebody told me? I'll have Jackson's hide! I'll\n disfranchise him! I'll\u2014\" \n\n   \"Harp!\" exploded Bella. \"Stop it! Maybe Jackson doesn't know a thing\n about it, whatever it is! If it's something at the Emerald Star Hotel,\n why don't you just go and find out for yourself instead of throwing a\n tantrum? That's the only sensible way!\" \n\n   \"You're right, Bella,\" agreed Harper incisively. \"I'll go and find out\n for myself. Immediately!\" Scooping up his hat, he left at his usual\n lope. \n\n   \"Well!\" remarked his sister. \"All I can say is that they'd better turn\n that happy-gas on extra strong for Harp's trip out!\"  \n   The trip out did Harper a world of good. Under the influence of the\n soporific gas that permeated the rocket, he really relaxed for the\n first time in years, sinking with the other passengers into a hazy\n lethargy with little sense of passing time and almost no memory of the\n interval. \n\n   It seemed hardly more than a handful of hours until they were strapping\n themselves into deceleration hammocks for the landing. And then Harper\n was waking with lassitude still heavy in his veins. He struggled out of\n the hammock, made his way to the airlock, and found himself whisked by\n pneumatic tube directly into the lobby of the Emerald Star Hotel. \n\n   Appreciatively he gazed around at the half-acre of moss-gray carpeting,\n green-tinted by the light sifting through the walls of Martian\n copper-glass, and at the vistas of beautiful domed gardens framed by a\n dozen arches. But most of all, the robots won his delighted approval. \n\n   He could see at once that they had been developed to an amazingly high\n state of perfection. How, he wondered again, had this been done without\n his knowledge? Was Scrib right? Was he slipping? Gnawing at the doubt,\n he watched the robots moving efficiently about, pushing patients in\n wheelchairs, carrying trays, guiding newcomers, performing janitorial\n duties tirelessly, promptly, and best of all, silently. \n\n   Harper was enthralled. He'd staff his offices with them. Hang the\n expense! There'd be no more of that obnoxious personal friction and\n proneness to error that was always deviling the most carefully trained\n office staffs! He'd investigate and find out the exact potentialities\n of these robots while here, and then go home and introduce them into\n the field of business. He'd show them whether he was slipping! Briskly\n he went over to the desk. \n\n   He was immediately confronted with a sample of that human obstinacy\n that was slowly driving him mad. Machines, he sighed to himself.\n Wonderful silent machines! For a woman was arguing stridently with the\n desk clerk who, poor man, was a high strung fellow human instead of a\n robot. Harper watched him shrinking and turning pale lavender in the\n stress of the argument. \n\n   \"A nurse!\" shouted the woman. \"I want a nurse! A real woman! For what\n you charge, you should be able to give me a television star if I want\n one! I won't have another of those damnable robots in my room, do you\n hear?\" \n\n   No one within the confines of the huge lobby could have helped hearing.\n The clerk flinched visibly. \"Now, Mrs. Jacobsen,\" he soothed. \"You know\n the hotel is staffed entirely with robots. They're much more expensive,\n really, than human employees, but so much more efficient, you know.\n Admit it, they give excellent service, don't they, now?\" Toothily he\n smiled at the enraged woman. \n\n   \"That's just it!\" Mrs. Jacobsen glared. \"The service is     too    good.\n I might just as well have a set of push buttons in the room. I want\n someone to     hear    what I say! I want to be able to change my mind once\n in awhile!\" \n\n   Harper snorted. \"Wants someone she can devil,\" he diagnosed. \"Someone\n she can get a kick out of ordering around.\" With vast contempt he\n stepped to the desk beside her and peremptorily rapped for the clerk. \n\n   \"One moment, sir,\" begged that harassed individual. \"Just one moment,\n please.\" He turned back to the woman. \n\n   But she had turned her glare on Harper. \"You could at least be civil\n enough to wait your turn!\" \n\n   Harper smirked. \"My good woman, I'm not a robot. Robots, of course,\n are always civil. But you should know by now that civility isn't a\n normal human trait.\" Leaving her temporarily quashed, he beckoned\n authoritatively to the clerk. \n\n   \"I've just arrived and want to get settled. I'm here merely for a\n rest-cure, no treatments. You can assign my quarters before continuing\n your\u2014ah\u2014discussion with the lady.\" \n\n   The clerk sputtered. Mrs. Jacobsen sputtered. But not for nothing was\n Harper one of the leading business executives of the earth. Harper's\n implacable stare won his point. Wiping beads of moisture from his\n forehead, the clerk fumbled for a card, typed it out, and was about to\n deposit it in the punch box when a fist hit the desk a resounding blow\n and another voice, male, roared out at Harper's elbow. \n\n   \"This is a helluva joint!\" roared the voice. \"Man could rot away to the\n knees while he's waitin' for accommodations. Service!\" Again his fist\n banged the counter. \n\n   The clerk jumped. He dropped Harper's card and had to stoop for it.\n Absently holding it, he straightened up to face Mrs. Jacobsen and the\n irate newcomer. Hastily he pushed a tagged key at Harper. \n\n   \"Here you are, Mr. Breen. I'm sure you'll find it comfortable.\" With a\n pallid smile he pressed a button and consigned Harper to the care of a\n silent and efficient robot.  \n   The room was more than comfortable. It was beautiful. Its bank of clear\n windows set in the green glass wall framed startling rubicund views of\n the Martian hinterland where, Harper affectionately thought, fungi were\n busy producing enzymes that were going to be worth millions for him and\n his associates. There remained only the small detail of discovering how\n to extract them economically and to process them on this more than arid\n and almost airless planet. Details for his bright young laboratory men;\n mere details.... \n\n   Leaving his luggage to be unpacked by the robot attendant, he went up\n to the domed roof restaurant. Lunching boldly on broiled halibut with\n consomme, salad and a bland custard, he stared out at the dark blue\n sky of Mars, with Deimos hanging in the east in three-quarter phase\n while Phobos raced up from the west like a meteor behind schedule.\n Leaning back in his cushioned chair, he even more boldly lit a slim\n cigar\u2014his first in months\u2014and inhaled happily. For once old Scribney\n had certainly been right, he reflected. Yes sir, Scrib had rung the\n bell, and he wasn't the man to forget it. With a wonderful sense of\n well-being he returned to his room and prepared to relax. \n\n   Harper opened his eyes. Two robots were bending over him. He saw that\n they were dressed in white, like hospital attendants. But he had no\n further opportunity to examine them. With brisk, well-co-ordinated\n movements they wheeled a stretcher along-side his couch, stuck a hypo\n into his arm, bundled him onto the stretcher and started wheeling him\n out. \n\n   Harper's tongue finally functioned. \"What's all this?\" he demanded.\n \"There's nothing wrong with me. Let me go!\" \n\n   He struggled to rise, but a metal hand pushed him firmly on the chest.\n Inexorably it pushed him flat. \n\n   \"You've got the wrong room!\" yelled Harp. \"Let me go!\" But the hypo\n began to take effect. His yells became weaker and drowsier. Hazily, as\n he drifted off, he thought of Mrs. Jacobsen. Maybe she had something,\n at that.  \n   There was a tentative knock on the door. \"Come in,\" called Harper\n bleakly. As soon as the door opened he regretted his invitation, for\n the opening framed the large untidy man who had noisily pounded on the\n desk demanding service while he, Harp, was being registered. \n\n   \"Say, pardner,\" he said hoarsely, \"you haven't seen any of them robots\n around here, have you?\" \n\n   Harper scowled. \"Oh, haven't I?\" he grated. \"Robots! Do you know what\n they did to me.\" Indignation lit fires in his pale eyes. \"Came in here\n while I was lying down peacefully digesting the first meal I've enjoyed\n in months, dragged me off to the surgery, and pumped it all out! The\n only meal I've enjoyed in months!\" Blackly he sank his chin onto his\n fist and contemplated the outrage. \n\n   \"Why didn't you stop 'em?\" reasonably asked the visitor. \n\n   \"Stop a robot?\" Harper glared pityingly. \"How? You can't reason with\n the blasted things. And as for using force\u2014it's man against metal. You\n try it!\" He ground his teeth together in futile rage. \"And to think I\n had the insane notion that robots were the last word! Why, I was ready\n to staff my offices with the things!\" \n\n   The big man placed his large hands on his own capacious stomach and\n groaned. \"I'm sure sorry it was you and not me, pardner. I could use\n some of that treatment right now. Musta been that steak and onions I\n ate after all that tundra dope I've been livin' on.\" \n\n   \"Tundra?\" A faint spark of alertness lightened Harper's dull rage. \"You\n mean you work out here on the tundra?\" \n\n   \"That's right. How'd you think I got in such a helluva shape? I'm\n superintendent of one of the fungus plants. I'm Jake Ellis of Hagerty's\n Enzymes. There's good money in it, but man, what a job! No air worth\n mentionin'. Temperature always freezin' or below. Pressure suits. Huts.\n Factory. Processed food. Nothin' else. Just nothin'. That's where they\n could use some robots. It sure ain't no job for a real live man. And in\n fact, there ain't many men left there. If old man Hagerty only knew it,\n he's about out of business.\" \n\n   Harper sat up as if he'd been needled. He opened his mouth to speak.\n But just then the door opened briskly and two robots entered. With a\n horrified stare, Harper clutched his maltreated stomach. He saw a third\n robot enter, wheeling a chair. \n\n   \"A wheel chair!\" squeaked the victim. \"I tell you, there's nothing\n wrong with me! Take it away! I'm only here for a rest-cure! Believe me!\n Take it away!\" \n\n   The robots ignored him. For the first time in his spectacular and\n ruthless career Harper was up against creatures that he could neither\n bribe, persuade nor browbeat, inveigle nor ignore. It shattered his\n ebbing self-confidence. He began waving his hands helplessly. \n\n   The robots not only ignored Harper. They paid no attention at all to\n Jake Ellis, who was plucking at their metallic arms pleading, \"Take\n me, boys. I need the treatment bad, whatever it is. I need all the\n treatment I can get. Take me! I'm just a wreck, fellers\u2014\" \n\n   Stolidly they picked Harper up, plunked him into the chair, strapped\n him down and marched out with him.      Dejectedly Ellis returned to his own room. Again he lifted the receiver\n of the room phone; but as usual a robot voice answered sweetly,\n mechanically, and meaninglessly. He hung up and went miserably to bed.  \n   There was something nagging at Harper's mind. Something he should do.\n Something that concerned robots. But he was too exhausted to think it\n out. \n\n   For five days now his pet robots had put him through an ordeal that\n made him flinch every time he thought about it. Which wasn't often,\n since he was almost past thinking. They plunked him into stinking\n mud-baths and held him there until he was well-done to the bone, he\n was sure. They soaked him in foul, steaming irradiated waters until he\n gagged. They brought him weird concoctions to eat and drink and then\n stood over him until he consumed them. They purged and massaged and\n exercised him. \n\n   Whenever they let him alone, he simply collapsed into bed and slept.\n There was nothing else to do anyway. They'd taken his clothes; and the\n phone, after an announcement that he would have no more service for two\n weeks, gave him nothing but a busy signal. \n\n   \"Persecution, that's what it is!\" he moaned desperately. And he turned\n his back to the mirror, which showed him that he was beginning to look\n flesh-colored instead of the parchment yellow to which he had become\n accustomed. He closed his mind to the fact that he was sleeping for\n hours on end like the proverbial baby, and that he was getting such an\n appetite that he could almost relish even that detestable mush they\n sent him for breakfast. He was determined to be furious. As soon as he\n could wake up enough to be. \n\n   He hadn't been awake long this time before Jake Ellis was there again,\n still moaning about his lack of treatments. \"Nothin' yet,\" he gloomily\n informed Harp. \"They haven't been near me. I just can't understand it.\n After I signed up for the works and paid 'em in advance! And I can't\n find any way out of this section. The other two rooms are empty and the\n elevator hasn't got any button. The robots just have to come and get a\n man or he's stuck.\" \n\n   \"Stuck!\" snarled Harp. \"I'm never stuck! And I'm damned if I'll wait\n any longer to break out of this\u2014this jail! Listen, Jake. I've been\n thinking. Or trying to, with what's left of me. You came in just when\n that assinine clerk was registering me. I'll bet that clerk got rattled\n and gave me the wrong key. I'll bet you're supposed to have this room\n and I'm getting your treatments. Why don't we switch rooms and see what\n happens?\" \n\n   \"Say, maybe you're right!\" Jake's eyes gleamed at last with hope. \"I'll\n get my clothes.\" \n\n   Harp's eyebrows rose. \"You mean they left you your clothes?\" \n\n   \"Why, sure. You mean they took yours?\" \n\n   Harp nodded. An idea began to formulate. \"Leave your things, will you?\n I'm desperate! I'm going to see the manager of this madhouse if I have\n to go down dressed in a sheet. Your clothes would be better than that.\" \n\n   Jake, looking over Harper's skimpy frame, grunted doubtfully. \"Maybe\n you could tie 'em on so they wouldn't slip. And roll up the cuffs. It's\n okay with me, but just don't lose something when you're down there in\n that fancy lobby.\" \n\n   Harper looked at his watch. \"Time to go. Relax, old man. The robots\n will be along any minute now. If you're the only man in the room, I'm\n sure they'll take you. They aren't equipped to figure it out. And don't\n worry about me. I'll anchor your duds all right.\" \n\n   Harper had guessed right. Gleefully from the doorway of his new room\n he watched the robots wheel away his equally delighted neighbor for\n his first treatment. Then he closed the door and began to don Jake's\n clothing. \n\n   The result was unique. He looked like a small boy in his father's\n clothes, except for the remarkably aged and gnome-like head sticking\n up on a skinny neck from a collar three sizes too big. And he was\n shoeless. He was completely unable to navigate in Jake's number\n twelves. But Harper was a determined man. He didn't even flinch from\n his image in the mirror. Firmly he stepped over to Jake's telephone.\n \"This is room 618,\" he said authoritatively. \"Send up the elevator for\n me. I want to go down to the lobby.\" \n\n   He'd guessed right again. \"It will be right up, sir,\" responded the\n robot operator. Hopefully he stepped out into the hall and shuffled to\n the elevator.  \n   Only the robots were immune to Harper Breen's progress across the huge\n suave lobby. \n\n   He was a blot on its rich beauty, a grotesque enigma that rooted the\n other visitors into paralyzed staring groups. Stepping out of the\n elevator, he had laid a course for the desk which loomed like an island\n in a moss-gray lake, and now he strode manfully toward it, ignoring the\n oversize trousers slapping around his stocking feet. Only the robots\n shared his self control. \n\n   The clerk was the first to recover from the collective stupor.\n Frantically he pushed the button that would summon the robot guard.\n With a gasp of relief he saw the two massive manlike machines moving\n inexorably forward. He pointed to Harper. \"Get that patient!\" he\n ordered. \"Take him to the\u2014to the mud-baths!\" \n\n   \"No you don't!\" yelled Harper. \"I want to see the manager!\" Nimbly he\n circled the guard and leaped behind the desk. He began to throw things\n at the robots. Things like inkwells and typewriters and card indexes.\n Especially, card indexes. \n\n   \"Stop it!\" begged the clerk. \"You'll wreck the system! We'll never get\n it straight again! Stop it!\" \n\n   \"Call them off!\" snarled Harper. \"Call them off or I'll ruin your\n switchboard!\" He put a shoulder against it and prepared to heave. \n\n   With one last appalled glare at the madman, the clerk picked up an\n electric finger and pointed it at the approaching robots. They became\n oddly inanimate. \n\n   \"That's better!\" Harper straightened up and meticulously smoothed the\n collar of his flapping coat. \"Now\u2014the manager, please.\" \n\n   \"This\u2014this way, sir.\" With shrinking steps the clerk led Harper across\n the width of the lobby among the fascinated guests. He was beyond\n speech. Opening the inconspicuous door, he waved Harper inside and\n returned doggedly to his desk, where he began to pick up things and at\n the same time phrase his resignation in his mind. \n\n   Brushing aside the startled secretary in the outer cubicle, Harper\n flapped and shuffled straight into the inner sanctum. The manager, who\n was busy chewing a cigar to shreds behind his fortress of gun metal\n desk, jerked hastily upright and glared at the intruder. \"My good\n man\u2014\" he began. \n\n   \"Don't 'my-good-man' me!\" snapped Harper. He glared back at the\n manager. Reaching as far across the expanse of desktop as he could\n stretch, he shook his puny fist. \"Do you know who I am? I'm Harper\n S. Breen, of Breen and Helgart, Incorporated! And do you know why I\n haven't even a card to prove it? Do you know why I have to make my way\n downstairs in garb that makes a laughing stock of me? Do you know why?\n Because that assinine clerk of yours put me in the wrong room and those\n damnable robots of yours then proceeded to make a prisoner of me! Me,\n Harper S. Breen! Why, I'll sue you until you'll be lucky if you have a\n sheet of writing-paper left in this idiot's retreat!\" \n\n   Hayes, the manager, blanched. Then he began to mottle in an apoplectic\n pattern. And suddenly with a gusty sigh, he collapsed into his chair.\n With a shaking hand he mopped his forehead. \"     My    robots!\" he muttered.\n \"As if I invented the damned things!\" \n\n   Despondently he looked at Harper. \"Go ahead and sue, Mr. Breen. If you\n don't, somebody else will. And if nobody sues, we'll go broke anyway,\n at the rate our guest list is declining. I'm ready to hand in my\n resignation.\" \n\n   Again he sighed. \"The trouble,\" he explained, \"is that those fool\n robots are completely logical, and people aren't. There's no way to mix\n the two. It's dynamite. Maybe people can gradually learn to live with\n robots, but they haven't yet. Only we had to find it out the hard way.\n We\u2014\" he grimaced disgustedly\u2014\"had to pioneer in the use of robots.\n And it cost us so much that we can't afford to reconvert to human help.\n So\u2014Operation Robot is about to bankrupt the syndicate.\" \n\n   Listening, an amazing calm settled on Harper. Thoughtfully now he\n hooked a chair to the desk with his stockinged foot, sat down and\n reached for the cigar that Hayes automatically offered him. \"Oh, I\n don't know,\" he said mildly. \n\n   Hayes leaned forward like a drowning man sighting a liferaft. \"What\n do you mean, you don't know? You're threatening to take our shirts,\n aren't you?\" \n\n   Meticulously Harper clipped and lit his cigar. \"It seems to me that\n these robots might be useful in quite another capacity. I might even\n make a deal with your syndicate to take them off your hands\u2014at a\n reasonable price, of course\u2014and forget the outrages I've suffered at\n your establishment.\" \n\n   Hayes leaned toward him incredulous. \"You mean you want these robots\n after what you've seen and experienced?\" \n\n   Placidly Harper puffed a smoke ring. \"Of course, you'd have to take\n into consideration that it would be an experiment for me, too. And\n there's the suit I'm clearly justified in instituting. However, I'm\n willing to discuss the matter with your superiors.\" \n\n   With hope burgeoning for the first time in weeks, Hayes lifted his\n head. \"My dear Mr. Breen, to get rid of these pestiferous robots, I'll\n back you to the hilt! I'll notify the owners at once. At once, Mr.\n Breen! And while we wait for them, allow me to put you up as a guest of\n the hotel.\" Coming around to Harper, he effusively shook Harp's scrawny\n hand, and then personally escorted him not merely to the door but\n across the lobby to the elevator. \n\n   Harper gazed out at the stunned audience. This was more like the\n treatment he was accustomed to! Haughtily he squared his bony shoulders\n inside the immense jacket and stepped into the elevator. He was ready\n for the second step of his private Operation Robot.  \n   Back on Earth it was a warm, misty spring day\u2014the kind of day unknown\n to the planet Mars. Bella and Scribney, superb in new spring outfits,\n waited restlessly while the rocket cooled and the passengers recovered\n from deceleration. \n\n   \"Look, Scrib!\" Bella clutched Scribney's substantial arm. \"It's finally\n opening.\" \n\n   They watched the airlock open and the platform wheel into place. They\n watched the passengers descend, looking a trifle dazed. \n\n   \"There he is!\" cried Bella. \"Why, doesn't he look wonderful! Scrib,\n it's amazing! Look at him! \n\n   And indeed, Harper was stepping briskly downward, looking spry and fit\n and years younger. He came across to them actually beaming. It was the\n first pleasant expression they had seen on his face in years. \n\n   \"Well, you old dog!\" exclaimed Scribney affectionately. \"So you did it\n again!\" \n\n   Harper smirked. \"Yep, I turned a neat little deal. I bought out\n Hagerty's Enzymes and staffed the plant with the hotel's robots. Got\n both of 'em dirt cheap. Both concerns going bankrupt because they\n didn't have sense enough to swap their workers. Feel I owe you a bit\n for that tip about enzymes, Scrib, so I made out a block of stock to\n you. All right?\" \n\n   \"All right?\" Scribney gulped. Why, the dried-up little turnip was human\n after all. \"All right! Yes, sir! But aren't you going to use some of\n those robots for office help? Aren't they efficient and all that?\" \n\n   Harper's smile vanished. \"Don't even mention such a thing!\" he yelped.\n \"You don't know what you're saying! I lived with those things for\n weeks. I wouldn't have one around! Keep 'em in the factory where they\n belong!\" \n\n   He glimpsed the composed, wonderfully human face of his secretary,\n waiting patiently in the background. \"Oh there you are, Smythe.\" He\n turned to his relatives. \"Busy day ahead. See you later, folks\u2014\" \n\n   \"Same old Harp,\" observed Scribney. Then he thought of the block of\n stock. \"What say we celebrate our rise to a position in the syndicate,\n honey?\" \n\n   \"Wonderful!\" She squeezed his arm, and smiling at each other, they left\n the port.  \n", "source": "quality_raw", "evaluation": "exam"}
{"instructions": ["What would best describe Asa and Dorr's relationship?\n\n (A) They dislike each other because they are in a struggle for dominance over Slider egg supply and the Hazeltyne company.\n (B) Asa is afraid of Dorr, especially after being framed.\n (C) They have disdain for each other considering that Dorr is the reason behind why Asa was influenced to live on the treacherous Jordan's Planet.\n (D) They are largely unfamilar with each other, despite the minor disputes they have had.", "How would Asa's decision on where to become a changeling been affected if the pay range to work as a muck man on Jordan's Planet was not as high as it was originally listed in the article?\n\n (A) He would have opted to spend the five years in prison instead because a low pay rate would not justify the dangers of working on Jordan's Planet.\n (B) Asa would have become a muck man anyways because that was his original intention.\n (C) He would have chosen to become a changeling at another place with higher pay.\n (D) Asa would have still opted to become a muck man, but he would have largely been dissapointed with the low pay rate.", "What was the advantage of muck men being shaped like frogs?\n\n (A) A frog-shaped body warded off Sliders.\n (B) A frog-shaped body helped better cross the terrain on Jordan's Planet.\n (C) A frog-shaped body would ensure prisoners could not leave Jordan's Planet.\n (D) The frog body would be so grotesque that it would make it nearly impossible for prisoners to finish their sentence.", "What can you infer about the living conditions on Jordan's Planet?\n\n (A) Only a human that has a frog-like body can survive the terrain.\n (B) It is a dangerous land, but only at night.\n (C) It is similar to Earth because humans and Earth-like animals can live on it.\n (D) Completely inhospitable for human life without proper interventions.", "What were the consequences of Asa meeting Kershaw and Furston?\n\n (A) Furston saved Kershaw and Asa's life after running into the Slider.\n (B) Kershaw and Furston taught Asa how to deal with Dorr and his devious tactics. \n (C) Kershaw and Furston discouraged Asa's hopes of being a successful muck man.\n (D) Kershaw and Furston were essential in helping Asa assimilate to his job as a muck man.", "What would best describe Harriet's attitude towards Dorr?\n\n (A) She believes he is not competent to run the Hazeltyne company.\n (B) She is saddened by the way he treats the muck men.\n (C) She gets periodically frustrated with his mannerisms.\n (D) She fears Dorr because he is very powerful over the Hazeltyne company.", "What would have been the consequence if Harriet did not come back for Asa with the helicopter?\n\n (A) Asa would have been able to keep the Slider egg for himself.\n (B) He would have not learned why Dorr did not come back with the hellicopter.\n (C) Asa would not have been able to escape the muck by getting onto the hellicopter and returning.\n (D) Asa would have been eaten by a Slider.", "Why would a company think it is a logical idea to let prisoners work as muck men on Jordan's Planet?\n\n (A) Prisoners are more efficient workers than people who are not in prison.\n (B) It is a very dangerous job that only prisoners would be desperate enough to do to lower their prison sentence.\n (C) It is an appropriate punishment that will balance out the crimes committed by prisoners.\n (D) The Hazeltyne company can only afford to employ prisoners.", "What would best describe Asa's motive for working as a muck man?\n\n (A) He is motivated by the high pay rate.\n (B) It was his dream to be a muck man.\n (C) He wants to prove he was framed by Dorr.\n (D) He is seeking revenge. ", "What seems to be the primary benefit of becoming a changeling?\n\n (A) Efficient labor and reduced prison sentences.\n (B) Regeneration of bodily organs.\n (C) Extended life expectancy.\n (D) Developing superhuman powers.", "What was Asa's true motivation for choosing Jordan's Planet?\n\n (A) Studying Slider eggs in their natural habitat.\n (B) He wanted to serve a reduced sentence.\n (C) The conversions made mud-dwelling more comfortable.\n (D) The bankroll was far greater than on other planets.", "What happens to a changeling after their sentence is served?\n\n (A) They continue to hunt Slider eggs for the Hazeltynes.\n (B) They are converted back to their normal body and returned to Earth.\n (C) They maintain their conversion as a permanent reminder of their crimes.\n (D) They can choose to stay on their new planet or return to Earth.", "Why would Tom Dorr frame Asa Graybar for stealing the Slider egg?\n\n (A) Graybar's discoveries could ruin the Hazeltyne business.\n (B) He was protecting himself from being a potential suspect in the theft.\n (C) He was protecting Harriet from incrimination.\n (D) He was getting paid a small fortune to do so.", "Why did Furston instruct Graybar to eat berries?\n\n (A) To help him acclimate to his new changeling diet.\n (B) To demonstrate the impossibility of escaping imprisonment and seeking refuge on Jordan's Planet.\n (C) To help him develop an immunity to toxic plant life.\n (D) So that he would have enough energy to hunt Slider eggs.", "Why did Harriet crash the helicopter?\n\n (A) She thought the dead Slider was alive and tried to kill it.\n (B) The gravity on Jordan's Planet was different from that on Earth.\n (C) She was using it as a projectile to kill Graybar.\n (D) She didn't know how to fly one.", "The changelings on Jordan's Planet most closely resembled what Earth-dwelling creature?\n\n (A) A frog.\n (B) A salamander.\n (C) A worm.\n (D) A gorilla.", "How many sentences are there in the longest dialogue?\n\n(A) about 20\n(B) about 15\n(C) about 10\n(D) about 5", "How many words are there in the longest sentence in this story?\n\n(A) about 38\n(B) about 28\n(C) about 22\n(D) about 42", "The longest dialogue is spoken by whom in this story?\n\n(A) Tom Dorr\n(B) A doctor from the Conversion Corps\n(C) Jumpy\n(D) Asa"], "outputs": ["(B) Asa is afraid of Dorr, especially after being framed.", "(B) Asa would have become a muck man anyways because that was his original intention.", "(B) A frog-shaped body helped better cross the terrain on Jordan's Planet.", "(D) Completely inhospitable for human life without proper interventions.", "(D) Kershaw and Furston were essential in helping Asa assimilate to his job as a muck man.", "(A) She believes he is not competent to run the Hazeltyne company.", "(D) Asa would have been eaten by a Slider.", "(B) It is a very dangerous job that only prisoners would be desperate enough to do to lower their prison sentence.", "(D) He is seeking revenge.", "(A) Efficient labor and reduced prison sentences.", "(A) Studying Slider eggs in their natural habitat.", "(B) They are converted back to their normal body and returned to Earth.", "(A) Graybar's discoveries could ruin the Hazeltyne business.", "(B) To demonstrate the impossibility of escaping imprisonment and seeking refuge on Jordan's Planet.", "(B) The gravity on Jordan's Planet was different from that on Earth.", "(A) A frog.", "(D) about 5", "(A) about 38", "(B) A doctor from the Conversion Corps"], "input": "MUCK MAN \n\n   BY FREMONT DODGE \n\n   The work wasn't hard, but there were some sacrifices.    You had to give up hope and freedom\u2014and being human! \n\n   I \n\n   The girl with the Slider egg glittering in her hair watched the\n bailiff lead Asa Graybar out of the courtroom. He recognized her as\n old Hazeltyne's daughter Harriet, no doubt come to see justice done.\n She didn't have the hothouse-flower look Asa would have expected in a\n girl whose father owned the most valuable of the planetary franchises.\n She was not afraid to meet his eye, the eye of a judicially certified\n criminal. There was, perhaps, a crease of puzzlement in her brow, as if\n she had thought crimes were committed by shriveled, rat-faced types,\n and not by young biological engineers who still affected crewcuts. \n\n   Tom Dorr, Hazeltyne's general manager, was her escort. Asa felt\n certain, without proof, that Dorr was the man who had framed him for\n the charge of grand theft by secreting a fresh Slider egg in his\n laboratory. The older man stared at Asa coldly as he was led out of\n the courtroom and down the corridor back to jail. \n\n   Jumpy, Asa's cellmate, took one look at his face as he was put back\n behind bars. \n\n   \"Guilty,\" Jumpy said. \n\n   Asa glared at him. \n\n   \"I know, I know,\" Jumpy said hastily. \"You were framed. But what's the\n rap?\" \n\n   \"Five or one.\" \n\n   \"Take the five,\" Jumpy advised. \"Learn basket-weaving in a nice\n air-conditioned rehab clinic. A year on a changeling deal will seem a\n lot longer, even if you're lucky enough to live through it.\" \n\n   Asa took four steps to the far wall of the cell, stood there briefly\n with his head bent and turned to face Jumpy. \n\n   \"Nope,\" Asa said softly. \"I'm going into a conversion tank. I'm going\n to be a muck man, Jumpy. I'm going out to Jordan's Planet and hunt\n Slider eggs.\" \n\n   \"Smuggling? It won't work.\" \n\n   Asa didn't answer. The Hazeltyne company had gone after him because\n he had been working on a method of keeping Slider eggs alive. The\n Hazeltyne company would be happy to see him mark time for five years\n of so-called social reorientation. But if he could get out to Jordan's\n Planet, with his physiology adapted to the environment of that wretched\n world, he could study the eggs under conditions no laboratory could\n duplicate. He might even be able to cause trouble for Hazeltyne. \n\n   His only problem would be staying alive for a year.  \n   An interview with a doctor from the Conversion Corps was required\n for all persons who elected changeling status. The law stated that\n potential changelings must be fully informed of the rights and hazards\n of altered shape before they signed a release. The requirement held\n whether or not the individual, like Asa, was already experienced. \n\n   By the time humanity traveled to the stars, medical biology had made\n it possible to regenerate damaged or deficient organs of the body.\n Regeneration was limited only by advanced age. Sometime after a man's\n two hundredth year his body lost the ability to be coaxed into growing\n new cells. A fifth set of teeth was usually one's last. As long as\n senescence could be staved off, however, any man could have bulging\n biceps and a pencil waist, if he could pay for the treatment. \n\n   Until the medical associations declared such treatments unethical there\n was even a short fad of deliberate deformities, with horns at the\n temples particularly popular. \n\n   From regeneration it was a short step to specialized regrowth. The\n techniques were perfected to adapt humans to the dozen barely habitable\n worlds man had discovered. Even on Mars, the only planet outside Earth\n in the solar system where the human anatomy was remotely suitable, a\n man could work more efficiently with redesigned lungs and temperature\n controls than he could inside a pressure suit. On more bizarre planets\n a few light-years away the advantages of changeling bodies were\n greater. \n\n   Unfortunately for planetary development companies, hardly anyone\n wanted to become a changeling. High pay lured few. So a law was passed\n permitting a convicted criminal to earn his freedom by putting in one\n year as a changeling for every five years he would otherwise have had\n to spend in rehabilitation. \n\n   \"What types of changelings do you have orders for right now, doctor?\"\n Asa asked the man assigned to his case. It would look suspicious if he\n asked for Jordan's Planet without some preliminary questions. \n\n   \"Four,\" answered the doctor. \n\n   \"Squiffs for New Arcady. Adapted for climbing the skycraper trees and\n with the arm structure modified into pseudo-wings or gliding. Then we\n need spiderinos for Von Neumann Two. If you want the nearest thing we\n have to Earth, there's Caesar's Moon, where we'd just have to double\n your tolerance for carbon monoxide and make you a bigger and better\n gorilla than the natives. Last, of course, there's always a need for\n muck men on Jordan's Planet.\" \n\n   The doctor shrugged, as if naturally no one could be expected to\n choose Jordan's Planet. Asa frowned in apparent consideration of the\n alternatives. \n\n   \"What's the pay range?\" he asked. \n\n   \"Ten dollars a day on Caesar's Moon. Fifteen on New Arcady or Von\n Neumann Two. Twenty-five on Jordan's.\" \n\n   Asa raised his eyebrows. \n\n   \"Why such a difference? Everyone knows about muck men living in the\n mud while they hunt Slider eggs. But don't your conversions make the\n changeling comfortable in his new environment?\" \n\n   \"Sure they do,\" said the doctor. \"We can make you think mud feels\n better than chinchilla fur and we can have you jumping like a\n grasshopper despite the double gravity. But we can't make you like the\n sight of yourself. And we can't guarantee that a Slider won't kill you.\" \n\n   \"Still,\" Asa mused aloud, \"it would mean a nice bankroll waiting at the\n end of the year.\" \n\n   He leaned forward to fill in the necessary form.  \n   Since it was cheaper to transport a normal human than to rig special\n environments in a spaceship, every planet operated its own conversion\n chambers. On the space freighter that carried him from Earth Asa\n Graybar was confined to a small cabin that was opened only for a guard\n to bring meals and take out dirty dishes. He was still a prisoner. \n\n   Sometimes he could hear voices in the passageway outside, and once\n one of them sounded like a woman's. But since women neither served on\n spaceships nor worked in the dome settlements on harsher worlds, he\n decided it was his imagination. He might have been dead cargo for all\n he learned about space travel. \n\n   Nevertheless his time was not wasted. He had as a companion, or\n cellmate, another convict who had elected conversion to muck man. More\n important, his companion had done time on Jordan's Planet before and\n had wanted to return. \n\n   \"It's the Slider eggs,\" explained Kershaw, the two-time loser. \"The\n ones you see on Earth knock your eyes out, but they've already begun\n to die. There's nothing like a fresh one. And I'm not the first to\n go crazy over them. When I was reconverted and got home I had nine\n thousand dollars waiting for me. That'll buy a two-year-old egg that\n flashes maybe four times a day. So I stole a new one and got caught.\" \n\n   Asa had held a Slider egg in his hand as he gazed into it. He could\n understand. The shell was clear as crystal, taut but elastic, while\n the albumen was just as clear around the sparkling network of organic\n filaments that served as a yolk. Along these interior threads played\n tiny flashes of lightning, part of some unexplained process of life.\n Electrical instruments picked up static discharges from the egg, but\n the phenomenon remained a mystery. \n\n   Hardly anyone faced with the beauty of a Slider's egg bothered to\n question its workings. For a few expectant moments there would be only\n random, fitful gleamings, and then there would be a wild coruscation of\n light, dancing from one filament to the next in a frenzy of brilliance. \n\n   It took about four years for a Slider egg to die. Beauty, rarity and\n fading value made the eggs a luxury item like nothing the world had\n ever seen. If Asa had found a means of keeping them alive it would have\n made him wealthy at the expense of the Hazeltyne monopoly. \n\n   \"You know what I think?\" Kershaw asked. \"I think those flashes are\n the egg calling its momma. They sparkle like a million diamonds when\n you scoop one out of the muck, and right away a Slider always comes\n swooping out of nowhere at you.\" \n\n   \"I've been meaning to ask you,\" Asa said. \"How do you handle the\n Sliders?\" \n\n   Kershaw grinned. \n\n   \"First you try to catch it with a rocket. If you miss you start leaping\n for home. All this time you're broadcasting for help, you understand.\n When the Slider catches you, you leap up while it buries its jaws in\n the mud where you were just standing. You dig your claws in its back\n and hang on while it rolls around in the mud. Finally, if the 'copter\n comes\u2014and if they don't shoot off your head by mistake\u2014you live to\n tell the tale.\"  \n   II \n\n   Asa Graybar kept his normal form on Jordan's Planet just long enough to\n learn the discomfort of double gravity. He was told he needed another\n physical examination and was taken right in to a doctor. His heart was\n pounding to keep his blood circulating on this massive world, but the\n doctor had apparently learned to make allowances. \n\n   \"Swallow this,\" said the doctor after making a series of tests. \n\n   Asa swallowed the capsule. Two minutes later he felt himself beginning\n to lose consciousness. \n\n   \"This is it!\" he thought in panic. \n\n   He felt someone ease him back down onto a wheeled stretcher. Before\n consciousness faded completely he realized that no one got a chance\n to back out of becoming a changeling, that he was on his way to the\n conversion tank right now. \n\n   When he finally awoke he felt well rested and very comfortable. But for\n a long time he was afraid to open his eyes. \n\n   \"Come on, Graybar,\" said a deep, booming voice. \"Let's test our wings.\" \n\n   It was not Kershaw's voice, but it had to be Kershaw. Asa opened his\n eyes. \n\n   Everyone had seen pictures of muck men. It was different having one\n stand beside you. Kershaw looked much like an enormous frog except that\n his head was still mostly human. He was sitting on webbed feet, his\n lower legs bent double under huge thighs, and his trunk tilted forward\n so that his arms dangled to the ground. The arms were as thick around\n as an ordinary man's legs. The hands had become efficient scoops, with\n broad fingers webbed to the first joint and tipped with spade-like\n claws. The skin was still pinkish but had become scaly. Not a thread of\n hair showed anywhere on the body, not even on the head. \n\n   This, Asa realized, was what he looked like himself. \n\n   It would have been more bearable if the head had not retained strong\n traces of humanity. The nostrils flared wide and the jaws hardly\n emerged from the neck, but the ears were human ears and the eyes, under\n those horny ridges, were human eyes. Asa felt sure that the eyes could\n still weep. \n\n   He started to walk forward and tipped over on his side. Kershaw laughed. \n\n   \"Come to daddy, babykins,\" Kershaw said, holding out his hands. \"Only\n try hopping this time. And take it easy.\" \n\n   Asa pushed himself upright with one arm and tried a small hop. Nerve\n and muscle coordination was perfect. He found himself leaping as high\n as Kershaw's head. \n\n   \"That's the way,\" Kershaw said approvingly. \"Now get this on and we'll\n go outside.\" \n\n   Asa snapped on a belt and breech cloth combination that had flaps of\n fabric dangling from the belt in front and behind. He followed as\n Kershaw pushed open a sliding door to lead the way out of the room\n where they had been left to revive from conversion.  \n   They went into a courtyard partly covered by a roof projecting from\n the Hazeltyne company's dome settlement. The far half of the courtyard\n was open to the gray drizzle that fell almost ceaselessly from the sky\n of Jordan's Planet and turned most of its surface into marsh and mud\n flats. A high wall enclosed the far portion of the courtyard. Ranged\n along the wall were thirty stalls for muck men. \n\n   From fifty yards across the courtyard a muck man bounded over to them\n in two leaps. Attached to a harness across his shoulders and chest were\n a gun and a long knife. \n\n   \"Names?\" he growled. He was a foot taller than Graybar and big\n everywhere in proportion. \n\n   \"Kershaw. I'm back, Furston.\" \n\n   \"I'm Graybar.\" \n\n   \"Kershaw again? Just start in where you left off, sucker. Come on,\n you.\" He pointed to Asa and leaped to the open portion of the courtyard. \n\n   \"Do what he says,\" Kershaw whispered to Graybar. \"He's sort of a trusty\n and warden and parole officer rolled into one.\" \n\n   Asa was put through a series of exercises to get him used to his\n distorted body, to teach him how to leap and how to dig. He was shown\n how to operate the radio he would carry and how to fire the pencil-slim\n rockets of this gun. Finally he was told to eat a few berries from a\n native vine. He did so and immediately vomited. \n\n   Furston laughed. \n\n   \"That's to remind you you're still a man,\" Furston said, grinning.\n \"Everything that grows on this planet is poison. So if you got any\n ideas of hiding out till your term is up, forget 'em. Right here is\n where you eat.\" \n\n   Asa turned without a word and hopped feebly away from Furston. He\n lifted his head to breathe deeply and saw two humans watching him from\n an observation tower on the roof. \n\n   He leaped twenty feet into the air for a closer look. \n\n   Gazing at him with repugnance, after witnessing the end of his session\n with Furston, were Harriet Hazeltyne and general manager Tom Dorr. \n\n   The girl's presence merely puzzled Asa, but Dorr's being here worried\n him. Dorr had tried to get rid of him once and was now in an excellent\n position to make the riddance permanent. \n\n   At supper that night, squatting on the ground beside a low table with\n the dozen other muck men operating from the dome, Asa asked what the\n two were doing out here. \n\n   \"The girl will inherit this racket some day, won't she?\" asked one of\n the others. \"She wants to see what kind of suckers are making her rich.\" \n\n   \"Maybe that guy Dorr brought her along to show her what a big wheel\n he is,\" said one of the others. \"Just hope he doesn't take over the\n operations.\"  \n   III \n\n   Next morning Furston passed out guns, knives, radios, and pouches to\n carry any eggs the muck men found. He gave each man a compass and\n assigned the sectors to be worked during the day. Finally he called\n Graybar aside. \n\n   \"In case you don't like it here,\" Furston said, \"you can get a week\n knocked off your sentence for every egg you bring in. Now get out there\n and work that muck.\" \n\n   Furston sent Graybar and Kershaw out together so that the veteran could\n show Asa the ropes. Asa had already learned that the wall around the\n courtyard was to keep Sliders out, not muck men in. He leaped over it\n and hopped along after Kershaw. \n\n   Feet slapping against the mud, they went about five miles from the\n Hazeltyne station, swimming easily across ponds too broad to jump. The\n mud, if not precisely as pleasant to the touch as chinchilla fur, was\n not at all uncomfortable, and the dripping air caressed their skins\n like a summer breeze back on Earth. Tiny, slippery creatures skidded\n and splashed out of their way. Finally Kershaw stopped. His experienced\n eye had seen a trail of swamp weeds crushed low into the mud. \n\n   \"Keep your eyes open,\" Kershaw said. \"There's a Slider been around here\n lately. If you see something like an express train headed our way,\n start shooting.\" \n\n   At each leap along the trail they peered quickly around. They saw no\n Sliders, but this meant little, for the beasts lived under the mud as\n much as on top of it. \n\n   Kershaw halted again when they came to a roughly circular area some ten\n yards in diameter where the weeds had been torn out and lay rotting in\n the muck. \n\n   \"We're in luck,\" he said as Asa skidded to a stop at his side. \"An egg\n was laid somewhere here within the last week. These places are hard to\n spot when the new weeds start growing.\" \n\n   Kershaw took a long look around. \n\n   \"No trouble in sight. We dig.\" \n\n   They started at the center of the cleared area, shoveling up great gobs\n of mud with their hands and flinging them out of the clearing. Usually\n a muck man dug in a spiral out from the center, but Graybar and Kershaw\n dug in gradually widening semi-circles opposite each other. They had\n to dig four feet deep, and it was slow going until they had a pit\n big enough to stand in. Each handful of mud had to be squeezed gently\n before it was thrown away, to make sure it didn't conceal an egg. As he\n worked, Asa kept thinking what an inefficient system it was. Everything\n about the operation was wrong. \n\n   \"Got it!\" Kershaw shouted. He leaped out of the pit and started wiping\n slime off a round object the size of a baseball. Asa jumped out to\n watch. \n\n   \"A big one,\" Kershaw said. He held it, still smeared with traces of\n mud, lovingly to his cheek, and then lifted it to eye level. \"Just look\n at it.\"  \n   A SLIDER EGG  \n   The egg was flashing with a mad radiance, like a thousand diamonds\n being splintered under a brilliant sun. Static crackled in Asa's\n earphones and he thought of what Kershaw had said, that the\n scintillation of an egg was an effect of its calls to a mother Slider\n for help. Asa looked around. \n\n   \"Jump!\" he shouted. \n\n   At the edge of the clearing a segmented length of greenish black\n scales, some two feet thick and six feet high, had reared up out of the\n weeds. The top segment was almost all mouth, already opened to show row\n upon row of teeth. Before Asa could draw his gun the Slider lowered\n its head to the ground, dug two front flippers into the mud and shot\n forward. \n\n   Asa leaped with all his strength, sailing far out of the clearing.\n While he was still in the air he snapped the mouthpiece of his radio\n down from where it was hinged over his head. As he landed he turned\n instantly, his gun in his hand. \n\n   \"Calling the 'copter!\" he spoke rapidly into the mouthpiece. \"Kershaw\n and Graybar, sector eight, five miles out. Hurry!\" \n\n   \"Graybar?\" asked a voice in his earphone. \"What's up?\" \n\n   \"We've got an egg but a Slider wants it back.\" \n\n   \"On the way.\" \n\n   Asa hopped back to the clearing. Kershaw must have been bowled over by\n the Slider's first rush, for he was trying to hop on one leg as if the\n other had been broken. The egg lay flickering on top of the mud where\n Kershaw had dropped it. The Slider, eight flippers on each side working\n madly, was twisting its thirty feet of wormlike body around for another\n charge. \n\n   Aiming hastily, Asa fired a rocket at the monster's middle segment. The\n rocket smashed through hard scales and exploded in a fountain of gray\n flesh. The Slider writhed, coating its wound in mud, and twisted toward\n Asa. He leaped to one side, firing from the air and missing, and saw\n the Slider turn toward the patch of weeds where he would land. His legs\n were tensed to leap again the moment he hit the mud, but he saw the\n Slider would be on top of him before he could escape. As he landed he\n thrust his gun forward almost into the mouth of the creature and fired\n again.      Even as he was knocked aside into the muck, Asa's body was showered\n with shreds of alien flesh scattered by the rocket's explosion.\n Desperately pushing himself to his feet, he saw the long headless body\n shiver and lie still.  \n   Asa took a deep breath and looked around. \n\n   \"Kershaw!\" he called. \"Where are you?\" \n\n   \"Over here.\" Kershaw stood briefly above the weeds and fell back again.\n Asa leaped over to him. \n\n   \"Thanks,\" Kershaw said. \"Muck men stick together. You'll make a good\n one. I wouldn't have had a chance. My leg's busted.\" \n\n   \"The helicopter ought to be here pretty soon,\" Asa said. He looked over\n at the dead Slider and shook his head. \"Tell me, what are the odds on\n getting killed doing this?\" \n\n   \"Last time I was here there was about one mucker killed for every six\n eggs brought out. Of course you're not supposed to stand there admiring\n the eggs like I did while a Slider comes up on you.\" \n\n   Asa hopped over to the egg, which was still full of a dancing radiance\n where it rested on the mud. He scooped a hole in the muck and buried\n the egg. \n\n   \"Just in case there are any more Sliders around,\" he explained. \n\n   \"Makes no difference,\" said Kershaw, pointing upward. \"Here comes the\n 'copter, late as usual.\" \n\n   The big machine circled them, hovered to inspect the dead Slider, and\n settled down on broad skids. Through the transparent nose Asa could see\n Tom Dorr and Harriet Hazeltyne. The company manager swung the door open\n and leaned out. \n\n   \"I see you took care of the Slider,\" he said. \"Hand over the egg.\" \n\n   \"Kershaw has a broken leg,\" Asa said. \"I'll help him in and then I'll\n get the egg.\" \n\n   While Kershaw grabbed the door frame to help pull himself into the\n helicopter, Asa got under his companion's belly and lifted him by the\n waist. He hadn't realized before just how strong his new body was.\n Kershaw, as a muck man, would have weighed close to three hundred\n pounds on Earth, close to six hundred here. \n\n   Dorr made no move to help, but the girl reached under Kershaw's\n shoulder and strained to get him in. Once he was inside, Asa saw, the\n cabin was crowded. \n\n   \"Are you going to have room for me too?\" he asked. \n\n   \"Not this trip,\" Dorr answered. \"Now give me the egg.\" \n\n   Asa didn't hesitate. \"The egg stays with me,\" he said softly. \n\n   \"You do what I tell you, mucker,\" said Dorr. \n\n   \"Nope. I want to make sure you come back.\" Asa turned his head to\n Harriet. \"You see, Miss Hazeltyne, I don't trust your friend. You might\n ask him to tell you about it.\" \n\n   Dorr stared at him with narrowed eyes. Suddenly he smiled in a way that\n worried Asa. \n\n   \"Whatever you say, Graybar,\" Dorr said. He turned to the controls. In\n another minute the helicopter was in the sky.  \n   A round trip for the helicopter should have taken no more than twenty\n minutes, allowing time for Kershaw to be taken out at the settlement. \n\n   After an hour passed Asa began to worry. He was sure Dorr would return\n for the egg. Finally he realized that Dorr could locate the egg\n approximately by the body of the dead Slider. Dorr could return for the\n egg any time with some other muck man to dig for it. \n\n   Asa pulled down the mouthpiece of his radio. \n\n   \"This is Graybar, calling the helicopter,\" he said. \"When are you\n coming?\" \n\n   There was no answer except the hum of carrier wave. \n\n   If he tried to carry the egg back, Asa knew, Sliders would attack him\n all along the way. A man had no chance of getting five miles with an\n egg by himself. He could leave the egg here, of course. Even so he\n would be lucky if he got back, following a hazy compass course from\n which he and Kershaw had certainly deviated on their outward trip.\n There were no landmarks in this wilderness of bog to help him find his\n way. The workers were supposed to home in on radio signals, if they\n lost their bearings, but Dorr would deny him that help. \n\n   What was the night like on Jordan's Planet? Maybe Sliders slept at\n night. If he could stay awake, and if he didn't faint from hunger in\n this strange new body, and if the Sliders left him alone.... \n\n   A whirring noise made Asa jump in alarm. \n\n   Then he smiled in relief, for it was the helicopter, the blessed\n helicopter, coming in over the swamp. But what if it was Dorr, coming\n back alone to dispose of him without any witnesses? Asa leaped for the\n carcass of the dead Slider and took shelter behind it. \n\n   No machine-gun blast of rockets came from the helicopter. The big\n machine swooped low dizzily, tilted back in an inexpert attempt to\n hover, thumped down upon the mud and slid forward. As Asa jumped aside,\n the landing skids caught against the Slider's body and the helicopter\n flipped forward on its nose, one of the rotor blades plunging deep into\n the mud. \n\n   Asa leaped forward in consternation. Not only was his chance of safe\n passage back to the settlement wrecked, but now he would have the\n extra burden of taking care of the pilot. When he reached the nose\n of the helicopter he saw that the pilot, untangling herself from the\n controls to get up, was Harriet Hazeltyne.  \n   IV \n\n   \"Are you hurt?\" Asa asked her. She reached for his shoulder to steady\n herself as she climbed out of the machine. \n\n   \"I guess not,\" she said. \"But taking a fall in this gravity is no fun.\n From the way my face feels I ought to be getting a black eye pretty\n soon.\" \n\n   \"What happened?\" \n\n   \"I made a fool of myself.\" She made a face back in the direction of\n the settlement. \"Dorr wasn't going to come after you. He said anyone\n who talked back to him should try arguing with the Sliders.\" \n\n   She looked up at the machine-gun on the helicopter. \n\n   \"They feed at night, you know. And they eat their own kind,\" she said.\n \"The Slider you killed would draw them like ants to jam.\" \n\n   Asa glanced around quickly to make sure no Sliders had already come. He\n eyed the helicopter with distaste at the thought of what a flimsy fort\n it would make. \n\n   \"Anyway,\" Harriet said, \"I told him he couldn't just leave you here\n and we started arguing. I lost my temper. He thought he had brought me\n to Jordan's Planet on a fancy tour. I told him the real reason I was\n here was to check up for my father on the way he was running things and\n there seemed to be a lot wrong. So he told me very politely I could run\n things to suit myself and he walked off.\" \n\n   She shrugged, as if to indicate that she had made a mess of things. \n\n   \"And you took the helicopter by yourself,\" Asa said, as if he could\n hardly believe it yet. \n\n   \"Oh, back on Earth I can make a helicopter do stunts. But I wasn't used\n to this gravity. I don't suppose you could make this machine stand up\n straight?\" \n\n   Asa tugged at the body of the Slider until he got it off the skids of\n the plane. He pulled with all his strength at the rotor blade sunk in\n the mud, but the weight of the helicopter was upon it and the mud held\n it with a suction of its own. After a few minutes he had to give up. \n\n   \"We fight off the Sliders, then,\" she said, as matter of factly as if\n that problem was settled. \"If it's any comfort, I know how to handle\n the machine-gun.\" \n\n   \"Nope. In this drizzle, at night, the Sliders would be on us before\n we could see them. We've got to try to get back.\" He stood in thought\n while she stared at him patiently. \"What happened to the other muck men\n who went out today?\" he asked. \n\n   \"They were called in when the 'copter came out the first time. Some of\n them may not have got back yet.\"  \n", "source": "quality_raw", "evaluation": "exam"}
{"instructions": ["Why did Dennis' girlfriend leave him?\n\n (A) She wanted to take a new job\n (B) She was upset about his visit to the chamber\n (C) She was upset he cheated with 5 or 6 women from other planets\n (D) She couldn't compete with his love of space travel", "Where is International Police headquarters located?\n\n (A) Mercury\n (B) Mars\n (C) Venus\n (D) Terra", "Why was the journey not a new adventure for the captain?\n\n (A) He disliked flying lightning fast\n (B) He'd never spent sleepless nights in eternal vigilance\n (C) He did not have his usual luxurious office onboard\n (D) He was the only one who had been to the outer planets before", "What is the most likely reason Dennis was sympathetic toward Randall even though his failure caused a catastrophe?\n\n (A) He was angry at Dallas for criticizing Randall\n (B) He thought Randall had no place in the I S P\n (C) He could relate Randall's behavior to his experience with Koerber\n (D) He knew Randall was a coward", "Where did Marla end up?\n\n (A) Drifting in space, possibly in very  small pieces.\n (B) She went to work as a dancer in the Jovian Chamber.\n (C) She left Dennis and went to Earth for a new job.\n (D) She broke up with Dennis and married someone else on Venus.", "Other than the expense, what had been the downside for Dennis of spending a night in the Jovian Chamber?\n\n (A) The price was a rip-off because there were no private rooms left and they wouldn't give him a refund.\n (B) He missed a call-out to help capture a space pirate, plus a Martian mugged him and took all his money.\n (C) He missed a call-out to help capture a space pirate and was disciplined by his employer, plus he lost his girlfriend.\n (D) The hypnotics used to induce pleasure are very addictive, and he had to go into rehab.", "What phrase mostly closely captures why the Martian who attacks Dennis seems to hate him so much?\n\n (A) Martians, as a race, hate Terrans - all Terrans - because they view them as colonial oppressors preventing their freedom.\n (B) On Mars, hazel eyes such as Dennis' are considered a socio-economic indicator of a class Martians view as having caused all their problems.\n (C) The Martian is jealous of Dennis because of the Mercurean dancer at the bar who is coming on to him.\n (D) Dennis and the Martian have had previous run-ins over women and the Martian thinks Dennis owes him money from a billiards game.", "Why did the bar brawl end up being a net positive event for Dennis?\n\n (A) Because the Martian was a space pirate, and the police were pleased at being able to grab him, and gave Dennis the credit.\n (B) Because on Venus, a criminal's personal effects are given to the crime victim, so Dennis acquired an expensive tunic trimmed in ocelandian fur, and a costly acerine ring.\n (C) Because a huge money roll fell out of the Martian's pocket during the fight, and afterward, Dennis noticed it and pocketed it.\n (D) The bartender paid his tab out of gratitude for ridding them of the troublemaking Martian.", "How did the dancer respond to Dennis' victory over the Martian?\n\n (A) She gave him a poisonous look.\n (B) She offered Dennis free services for a week.\n (C) She gave him a come-hither look and they had a great time.\n (D) She gave him a quick salute, blew him a kiss and returned to dancing, as she needed to keep her job.", "What did the commander think about the danger level of the mission he gave to Dennis?\n\n (A) He thought of the mission as part of Dennis' punishment for not being ready to nab Koerber earlier.\n (B) He thought it would be an easy out and back, since Koerber was low on supplies.\n (C) He considered it just another day in the life of an I.S.P. officer.\n (D) He thought there was a pretty good chance Dennis would die during the mission.", "What was the most noteworthy feature of the spaceship provided for Dennis and his crew to chase down Koerber?\n\n (A) It's just about the fastest ship out in space, a huge advantage.\n (B) It's the first I.S.P. ship with artificial gravity.\n (C) The beryloid double-hull design.\n (D) The most important part of any ship is always the same:the crew.", "What did Dennis' crew do with their spare time while they were trying to find the pirate ship?\n\n (A) The new ship was also the first with ship-to-shore internet, so they could watch videos in their spare time.\n (B) They didn't have any spare time. They ran training exercises on procedures and weapons over and over to be ready.\n (C) All the hands spent their spare time doing exercises to keep their muscles strong in space.\n (D) The crew was kept busy in their spare time fixing all the systems that didn't really work right on this brand new ship.", "Why did George Randall's failure to follow orders result in Dennis' ship being pulled down to the planetoid?\n\n (A) The jets needed to be turned on and off at specific times to use the planetoid as a slingshot to catch Koerber. Since they got power at the wrong time, they were propelled to the planetoid's surface.\n (B) Since George Randall didn't follow the order to cut jets, that meant another crewman had to do it, which meant that crewman couldn't do his own job of positioning the magnetic repulsion plates.\n (C) With the jets still on, the magnetic repulsion plates could not be activated, resulting in them being tractored in by Koerber's ship.\n (D) With the jets still on, their ship could not \"run silent\" and avoid detection by Koerber's ship.", "How many words are there in this story?\n\n(A) about 4748\n(B) about 4648\n(C) about 4548\n(D) about 4448", "What can we infer from the longest sentence in this story?\n\n(A) He used a sledge-hammer to fight the Martian.\n(B) He dodged the Martian's rush and then struck him below the waist and to the chin.\n(C) The Martian's violet eyes were black with fury.\n(D) He outran the Martian until the latter was exhausted.", "In this story, who has the longest dialogue (one turn)?\n\n(A) Bertram \n(B) Koerber\n(C) Dennis\n(D) Marla"], "outputs": ["(B) She was upset about his visit to the chamber", "(D) Terra", "(D) He was the only one who had been to the outer planets before", "(C) He could relate Randall's behavior to his experience with Koerber", "(A) Drifting in space, possibly in very  small pieces.", "(C) He missed a call-out to help capture a space pirate and was disciplined by his employer, plus he lost his girlfriend.", "(C) The Martian is jealous of Dennis because of the Mercurean dancer at the bar who is coming on to him.", "(A) Because the Martian was a space pirate, and the police were pleased at being able to grab him, and gave Dennis the credit.", "(A) She gave him a poisonous look.", "(D) He thought there was a pretty good chance Dennis would die during the mission.", "(A) It's just about the fastest ship out in space, a huge advantage.", "(B) They didn't have any spare time. They ran training exercises on procedures and weapons over and over to be ready.", "(C) With the jets still on, the magnetic repulsion plates could not be activated, resulting in them being tractored in by Koerber's ship.", "(A) about 4748\n", "(B) He dodged the Martian's rush and then struck him below the waist and to the chin.\n", "(A) Bertram \n"], "input": "THE SOUL EATERS \n\n   By WILLIAM CONOVER \n\n   Firebrand Dennis Brooke had one final chance    to redeem himself by capturing Koerber whose    ships were the scourge of the Void. But his    luck had run its course, and now he was    marooned on a rogue planet\u2014fighting to save    himself from a menace weapons could not kill. \n\n   \"     And so, my dear    ,\" Dennis detected a faint irony in the phrase, \"     I'm\n afraid I can offer no competition to the beauties of five planets\u2014or\n is it six? With regret I bow myself out, and knowing me as you do,\n you'll understand the futility of trying to convince me again. Anyway,\n there will be no temptation, for I'm sailing on a new assignment I've\n accepted. I did love you.... Good-by.    \" \n\n   Dennis Brooke had lost count of the times he'd read Marla's last\n letter, but every time he came to these final, poignant lines, they\n never failed to conjure a vision of her tawny loveliness, slender as\n the palms of Venus, and of the blue ecstasy of her eyes, wide with a\n perpetual wonder\u2014limpid as a child's. \n\n   The barbaric rhythms of the     Congahua    , were a background of annoyance\n in Dennis' mind; he frowned slightly as the maneuvers of the Mercurian\n dancer, who writhed among the guests of the notorious pleasure palace,\n began to leave no doubt as to her intentions. The girl was beautiful,\n in a sultry, almost incandescent sort of way, but her open promise left\n him cold. He wanted solitude, somewhere to coordinate his thoughts\n in silence and salvage something out of the wreck of his heart, not\n to speak of his career. But Venus, in the throes of a gigantic boom\n upon the discovery of radio-active fields, could offer only one\n solitude\u2014the fatal one of her swamps and virgin forests. \n\n   Dennis Brooke was thirty, the time when youth no longer seems unending.\n When the minor adventures of the heart begin to pall. If the loss of\n Marla left an aching void that all the women of five planets could not\n fill, the loss of Space, was quite as deadly. For he had been grounded.\n True, Koerber's escape from the I.S.P. net had not quite been his\n fault; but had he not been enjoying the joys of a voluptuous Jovian\n Chamber, in Venus' fabulous Inter-planetary Palace, he would have been\n ready for duty to complete the last link in the net of I.S.P. cruisers\n that almost surrounded the space pirate. \n\n   A night in the Jovian Chamber, was to be emperor for one night. Every\n dream of a man's desire was marvelously induced through the skilful use\n of hypnotics; the rarest viands and most delectable drinks appeared as\n if by magic; the unearthly peace of an Olympus descended on a man's\n soul, and beauty ... beauty such as men dreamed of was a warm reality\n under the ineffable illumination of the Chamber. \n\n   It cost a young fortune. But to pleasure mad, boom-ridden Venus, a\n fortune was a bagatelle. Only it had cost Dennis Brooke far more than a\n sheaf of credits\u2014it had cost him the severe rebuff of the I.S.P., and\n most of his heart in Marla. \n\n   Dennis sighed, he tilted his red, curly head and drank deeply of the\n insidious     Verbena    , fragrant as a mint garden, in the tall frosty\n glass of Martian     Bacca-glas    , and as he did so, his brilliant hazel\n eyes found themselves gazing into the unwinking, violet stare of a\n young Martian at the next table. There was a smouldering hatred in\n those eyes, and something else ... envy, perhaps, or was it jealousy?\n Dennis couldn't tell. But his senses became instantly alert. Danger\n brought a faint vibration which his superbly trained faculties could\n instantly denote. \n\n   His steady, bronzed hand lowered the drink, and his eyes narrowed\n slightly. Absorbed in trying to puzzle the sudden enmity of this\n Martian stranger, he was unaware of the Mercurian Dancer. The latter\n had edged closer, whirling in prismatic flashes from the myriad\n semi-precious stones that studded her brief gauze skirt. And now, in\n a final bid for the spacer's favor she flung herself in his lap and\n tilted back invitingly. \n\n   Some of the guests laughed, others stared in plain envy at the\n handsome, red-haired spacer, but from the table across, came the\n tinkling sound of a fragile glass being crushed in a powerful hand,\n and a muffled Martian curse. Without warning, the Martian was on his\n feet with the speed of an Hellacorium, the table went crashing to one\n side as he leaped with deadly intent on the sprawled figure of Dennis\n Brooke. A high-pitched scream brought instant silence as a Terran girl\n cried out. Then the Martian's hand reached out hungrily. But Dennis was\n not there.  \n   Leaping to one side, impervious to the fall of the dancer, he avoided\n the murderous rush of the Martian youth, then he wheeled swiftly and\n planted a sledge-hammer blow in that most vulnerable spot of all\n Martians, the spot just below their narrow, wasp-like waist, and as the\n Martian half-doubled over, he lefted him with a short jab to the chin\n that staggered and all but dropped him. \n\n   The Martian's violet eyes were black with fury now. He staggered back\n and sucked in air, his face contorted with excruciating pain. But he\n was not through. His powerful right shot like a blast straight for\n Dennis' chest, striking like a piston just below the heart. Dennis took\n it, flat-footed, without flinching; then he let his right ride over\n with all the force at his command. It caught the Martian on the jaw and\n spun him like a top, the pale, imperious face went crimson as he slowly\n sagged to his knees and rolled to the impeccable mosaics of the floor. \n\n   Dennis, breathing heavily, stood over him until the international\n police arrived, and then he had the surprise of his life. Upon search,\n the police found a tiny, but fatal silvery tube holstered under his\n left arm-pit\u2014an atomic-disintegrator, forbidden throughout the\n interplanetary League. Only major criminals and space pirates still\n without the law were known to possess them. \n\n   \"Looks like your brawl has turned out to be a piece of fool's luck,\n Brooke!\" The Police Lieutenant favored Dennis with a wry smile. \"If\n I'm not mistaken this chap's a member of Bren Koerber's pirate crew.\n Who else could afford to risk his neck at the International, and have\n in his possession a disintegrator? Pity we have no complete records\n on that devil's crew! Anyway, we'll radio the I.S.P., perhaps they\n have details on this dandy!\" He eyed admiringly the priceless Martian\n embroideries on the unconscious Martian's tunic, the costly border of\n red, ocelandian fur, and the magnificent black     acerine    on his finger. \n\n   Dennis Brooke shrugged his shoulders, shoulders that would have put to\n shame the Athenian statues of another age. A faint, bitter smile curved\n his generous mouth. \"I'm grounded, Gillian, it'd take the capture of\n Koerber himself to set me right with the I.S.P. again\u2014you don't know\n Bertram! To him an infraction of rules is a major crime. Damn Venus!\"\n He reached for his glass of     Verbena    but the table had turned over\n during the struggle, and the glass was a shattered mass of gleaming     Bacca-glas    shards. He laughed shortly as he became conscious of the\n venomous stare of the Mercurian Dancer, of the excited voices of the\n guests and the emphatic disapproval of the Venusian proprietor who\n was shocked at having a brawl in his ultra-expensive, ultra-exclusive\n Palace. \n\n   \"Better come to Headquarters with me, Dennis,\" the lieutenant said\n gently. \"We'll say you captured him, and if he's Koerber's, the\n credit's yours. A trip to Terra's what you need, Venus for you is a\n hoodoo!\"  \n   The stern, white haired I.S.P. Commander behind the immense Aluminil\n desk, frowned slightly as Dennis Brooke entered. He eyed the six foot\n four frame of the Captain before him with a mixture of feelings, as\n if uncertain how to begin. Finally, he sighed as if, having come to a\n decision, he were forcing himself to speak: \n\n   \"Sit down, Dennis. I've sent for you, despite your grounding, for\n two reasons. The first one you already know\u2014your capture of one of\n Koerber's henchmen\u2014has given us a line as to his present orbit of\n piracy, and the means of a check on his activities. But that's not\n really why I've brought you here.\" He frowned again as if what he had\n to say were difficult indeed. \n\n   \"Marla Starland, your fiancee, accepted an assignment we offered her\u2014a\n delicate piece of work here on Terra that only a very beautiful, and\n very clever young lady could perform. And,\" he paused, grimacing,\n \"somewhere between Venus and Terra, the interplanetary spacer bringing\n her and several other passengers, began to send distress signals.\n Finally, we couldn't contact the ship any more. It is three days\n overdue. All passengers, a cargo of radium from Venus worth untold\n millions, the spacer itself\u2014seem to have vanished.\" \n\n   Dennis Brooke's space-tanned features had gone pale. His large hazel\n eyes, fringed with auburn lashes, too long for a man, were bright slits\n that smouldered. He stood silent, his hands clenched at his sides,\n while something cold and sharp seemed to dig at his heart with cruel\n precision. \n\n   \"Marla!\" He breathed at last. The thought of Marla in the power\n of Koerber sent a wave of anguish that seared through him like an\n atom-blast. \n\n   \"Commander,\" Dennis said, and his rich baritone voice had depths of\n emotion so great that they startled Commander Bertram himself\u2014and\n that grizzled veteran of the I.S.P., had at one time or another known\n every change of torture that could possibly be wrung on a human soul.\n \"Commander, give me one ...     one    chance at that spawn of unthinkable\n begetting! Let me try, and I promise you ...\" in his torture, Dennis\n was unconsciously banging a knotted fist on the chaste, satiny surface\n of the priceless desk, \"I promise you that I will either bring you\n Koerber, or forfeit my life!\" \n\n   Commander Bertram nodded his head. \"I brought you here for that\n purpose, son. We have reached a point in our war with Koerber, where\n the last stakes must be played ... and the last stake is death!\" \n\n   He reached over and flipped up the activator on a small telecast set\n on his desk; instantly the viso-screen lighted up. \"You'll now see\n a visual record of all we know about the passenger spacer that left\n Venus with passengers and cargo, as far as we could contact the vessel\n in space. This, Dennis,\" the Commander emphasized his words, \"is your\n chance to redeem yourself!\" He fell silent, while the viso-screen began\n to show a crowded space port on Venus, and a gigantic passenger spacer\n up-tilted in its cradle.  \n   They watched the parabola it made in its trajectory as it flashed into\n space and then fell into orbit there beyond the planetary attraction of\n Venus. On the three-dimensional viso-screen it was uncannily real. \n\n   A flight that had taken many hours to accomplish, was shortened on\n the viso-screen to a matter of minutes. They saw the great, proud\n interplanetary transport speeding majestically through the starry void,\n and suddenly, they saw her swerve in a great arc; again she swerved\n as if avoiding something deadly in space, and point upwards gaining\n altitude. It was zig-zagging now, desperately maneuvering in an erratic\n course, and as if by magic, a tiny spot appeared on the transport's\n side. \n\n   Tiny on the viso-screen, the fatal spots must have been huge in\n actuality. To the Commander of the I.S.P., and to Captain Brooke, it\n was an old story. Atom-blasts were pitting the spacer's hull with\n deadly Genton shells. The great transport trembled under the impact of\n the barrage, and suddenly, the screen went blank. \n\n   Commander Bertram turned slowly to face the young I.S.P. captain, whose\n features were a mask devoid of all expression now, save for the pallor\n and the burning fire in his eyes. \n\n   \"And that's the sixth one in a month. Sometimes the survivors reach\n Terra in emergency spacers, or are picked up in space by other\n transports ... and sometimes son ... well, as you know, sometimes\n they're never seen again.\" \n\n   \"When do I leave, Commander!\" Dennis Brooke's voice was like a javelin\n of ice. \n\n   \"Right now, if you wish. We have a new cruiser armored in beryloid with\n double hull\u2014a new design against Genton shells, but it's the speed\n of the thing that you'll want to know about. It just about surpasses\n anything ever invented. Get the figures and data from the coordination\n room, son; it's serviced and fueled and the crew's aboard.\" He\n extended his hand. \"You're the best spacer we have\u2014aside from your\n recklessness\u2014and on your success depends far more than the capture of\n an outlaw.\" Bertram smiled thinly. \"Happy landing!\"  \n   II \n\n   Their nerves were ragged. Days and days of fruitless search for a\n phantom ship that seemed to have vanished from space, and an equally\n elusive pirate whose whereabouts were hidden in the depths of\n fathomless space. \n\n   To all but Captain Brooke, this was a new adventure, their first\n assignment to duty in a search that went beyond the realm of the\n inner planets, where men spent sleepless nights in eternal vigilance\n against stray asteroids and outlaw crews of ruthless vandal ships. Even\n their cruiser was a new experience, the long, tapering fighter lacked\n the luxurious offices and appointments of the regular I.S.P. Patrol\n spacers. It placed a maximum on speed, and all available space was\n hoarded for fuel. The lightning fast tiger of the space-lanes, was a\n thing of beauty, but of grim, sleek beauty instinct with power, not the\n comfortable luxury that they knew. \n\n   Day after day they went through their drills, donning space suits,\n manning battle stations; aiming deadly atom-cannon at empty space, and\n eternally scanning the vast empty reaches by means of the telecast. \n\n   And suddenly, out of the void, as they had all but given up the search\n as a wild goose chase, a speck was limned in the lighted surface of the\n viso-screen in the control room. Instantly the I.S.P. cruiser came to\n life. In a burst of magnificent speed, the cruiser literally devoured\n the space leagues, until the spacer became a flashing streak. On the\n viso-screen, the speck grew larger, took on contours, growing and\n becoming slowly the drifting shell of what had been a transport. \n\n   Presently they were within reaching distance, and Captain Brooke\n commanded through the teleradio from the control room: \n\n   \"Prepare to board!\" \n\n   Every member of the crew wanted to be among the boarding party, for\n all but George Randall, the junior member of the crew had served his\n apprenticeship among the inner planets, Mars, Venus and Terra. He felt\n nauseated at the very thought of going out there in that vast abyss of\n space. His young, beardless face, with the candid blue eyes went pale\n when the order was given. But presently, Captain Brooke named those who\n were to go beside himself: \n\n   \"You, Tom and Scotty, take one emergency plane, and Dallas!\" \n\n   \"Yes, Captain!\" Dallas Bernan, the immense third lieutenant boomed in\n his basso-profundo voice. \n\n   \"You and I'll take a second emergency!\" There was a pause in the voice\n of the Captain from the control room, then: \"Test space suits. Test\n oxygen helmets! Atom-blasts only, ready in five minutes!\" \n\n   George Randall breathed a sigh of relief. He watched them bridge the\n space to the drifting wreck, then saw them enter what had once been a\n proud interplanetary liner, now soon to be but drifting dust, and he\n turned away with a look of shame. \n\n   Inside the liner, Captain Dennis Brooke had finished making a detailed\n survey. \n\n   \"No doubt about it,\" he spoke through the radio in his helmet. \"Cargo\n missing. No survivors. No indication that the repulsion fields were\n out of order. And finally, those Genton shells could only have been\n fired by Koerber!\" He tried to maintain a calm exterior, but inwardly\n he seethed in a cold fury more deadly than any he had ever experienced.\n Somehow he had expected to find at least one compartment unharmed,\n where life might have endured, but now, all hope was gone. Only a great\n resolve to deal with Koerber once and for all remained to him. \n\n   Dennis tried not to think of Marla, too great an ache was involved in\n thinking of her and all he had lost. When he finally spoke, his voice\n was harsh, laconic: \n\n   \"Prepare to return!\" \n\n   Scotty Byrnes, the cruiser's nurse, who could take his motors through a\n major battle, or hell and high water and back again, for that matter,\n shifted the Venusian weed that made a perpetual bulge on his cheek and\n gazed curiously at Captain Brooke. They all knew the story in various\n versions, and with special additions. But they were spacemen, implicit\n in their loyalty, and with Dennis Brooke they could and did feel safe. \n\n   Tom Jeffery, the tall, angular and red-faced Navigator, whose slow,\n easygoing movements belied the feral persistence of a tiger, and the\n swiftness of a striking cobra in a fight, led the small procession of\n men toward the emergency planes. Behind him came Dallas Bernan, third\n lieutenant, looming like a young asteroid in his space suit, followed\n by Scotty, and finally Captain Brooke himself. All left in silence, as\n if the tragedy that had occurred aboard the wrecked liner, had touched\n them intimately.  \n   Aboard the I.S.P. Cruiser, a surprise awaited them. It was young George\n Randall, whose excited face met them as soon as they had entered the\n airlocks and removed the space suits. \n\n   \"Captain Brooke ... Captain, recordings are showing on the new 'Jet\n Analyzers' must be the trail of some spacer. Can't be far!\" He was\n fairly dancing in his excitement, as if the marvelous work of the\n new invention that detected the disturbance of atomic jets at great\n distance were his own achievement. \n\n   Dennis Brooke smiled. His own heart was hammering, and inwardly he\n prayed that it were Koerber. It had to be! No interplanetary passenger\n spacer could possibly be out here at the intersection of angles Kp\n 39 degrees, 12 minutes, Fp 67 degrees of Ceres elliptic plane. None\n but a pirate crew with swift battle cruisers could dare! This was the\n dangerous asteroid belt, where even planetoids drifted in eccentric\n uncharted orbits. \n\n   Dennis, Tom Jeffery and Scotty Byrnes raced to the control room,\n followed by the ponderous Dallas to whom hurry in any form was\n anathema. There could be no doubt now! The \"Jet Analyzer\" recorded\n powerful disturbance, atomic\u2014could be nothing else. \n\n   Instantly Captain Brooke was at the inter-communication speaker: \n\n   \"Crew, battle stations! Engine room, full speed!\" \n\n   Scotty Byrnes was already dashing to the engine room, where his beloved\n motors purred with an ascending hum. Aboard the I.S.P. Cruiser each\n member of the crew raced to his assigned task without delay. Action\n impended, and after days and nights of inertia, it was a blessed\n relief. Smiles appeared on haggard faces, and the banter of men\n suddenly galvanized by a powerful incentive was bandied back and forth.\n All but George Randall. Now that action was imminent. Something gripped\n his throat until he could hardly stand the tight collar of his I.S.P.\n uniform. A growing nausea gripped his bowels, and although he strove to\n keep calm, his hands trembled beyond control. \n\n   In the compact, super-armored control room, Captain Brooke watched\n the telecast's viso-screen, with hungry eyes that were golden with\n anticipation. It seemed to him as if an eternity passed before at\n last, a black speck danced on the illuminated screen, until it finally\n reached the center of the viso-screen and remained there. It grew by\n leaps and bounds as the terrific speed of the cruiser minimized the\n distance long before the quarry was aware of pursuit. \n\n   But at last, when the enemy cruiser showed on the viso-screen,\n unmistakably for what it was\u2014a pirate craft, it showed by its sudden\n maneuver that it had detected the I.S.P. cruiser. For it had described\n a parabola in space and headed for the dangerous asteroid belt. As if\n navigated by a masterly hand that knew each and every orbit of the\n asteroids, it plunged directly into the asteroid drift, hoping to lose\n the I.S.P. cruiser with such a maneuver. Ordinarily, it would have\n succeeded, no I.S.P. patrol ship would have dared to venture into such\n a trap without specific orders. But to Dennis Brooke, directing the\n chase from the control room, even certain death was welcome, if only he\n could take Koerber with him. \n\n   Weaving through the deadly belt for several hours, Dennis saw his\n quarry slow down. Instantly he seized the chance and ordered a salvo\n from starboard. Koerber's powerful spacer reeled, dived and came up\n spewing Genton-shells. The battle was on at last. \n\n   From the banked atom-cannon of the I.S.P. Cruiser, a deadly curtain\n of atomic fire blazed at the pirate craft. A ragged rent back toward\n midship showed on Koerber's Cruiser which trembled as if it had been\n mortally wounded. Then Dennis maneuvered his cruiser into a power\n dive as a rain of Genton-shells swept the space lane above him, but as\n he came up, a lone shell struck. At such close range, super-armor was\n ripped, second armor penetrated and the magnificent vessel shook under\n the detonating impact. \n\n   It was then that Dennis Brooke saw the immense dark shadow looming\n immediately behind Koerber's ship. He saw the pirate cruiser zoom\n desperately in an effort to break the gravity trap of the looming mass,\n but too late. It struggled like a fly caught in a spider-web to no\n avail. It was then that Koerber played his last card. Sensing he was\n doomed, he tried to draw the I.S.P. Cruiser down with him. A powerful\n magnetic beam lashed out to spear the I.S.P. Cruiser.  \n   With a wrenching turn that almost threw them out of control, Dennis\n maneuvered to avoid the beam. Again Koerber's beam lashed out, as he\n sank lower into the looming mass, and again Dennis anticipating the\n maneuver avoided it. \n\n   \"George Randall!\" He shouted desperately into the speaker. \"Cut all\n jets in the rocket room! Hurry, man!\" He banked again and then zoomed\n out of the increasing gravity trap. \n\n   \"Randall! I've got to use the magnetic repulsion plates.... Cut all the\n jets!\" But there was no response. Randall's screen remained blank. Then\n Koerber's lashing magnetic beam touched and the I.S.P. ship was caught,\n forced to follow the pirate ship's plunge like the weight at the end of\n a whiplash. Koerber's gunners sent one parting shot, an atom-blast that\n shook the trapped cruiser like a leaf. \n\n   Beneath them, growing larger by the second, a small world rushed up to\n meet them. The readings in the Planetograph seemed to have gone crazy.\n It showed diameter 1200 miles; composition mineral and radio-active.\n Gravity seven-eighths of Terra. It couldn't be! Unless perhaps this\n unknown planetoid was the legendary core of the world that at one time\n was supposed to have existed between Jupiter and Mars. Only that could\n possibly explain the incredible gravity. \n\n   And then began another type of battle. Hearing the Captain's orders to\n Randall, and noting that no result had been obtained, Scotty Byrnes\n himself cut the jets. The Magnetic Repulsion Plates went into action,\n too late to save them from being drawn, but at least they could prevent\n a crash. Far in the distance they could see Koerber's ship preceding\n them in a free fall, then the Planetoid was rushing up to engulf them.  \n   III \n\n   The atmosphere was somewhat tenuous, but it was breathable, provided\n a man didn't exert himself. To the silent crew of the I.S.P. Cruiser,\n the strange world to which Koerber's magnetic Beam had drawn them,\n was anything but reassuring. Towering crags jutted raggedly against\n the sky, and the iridescent soil of the narrow valley that walled in\n the cruiser, had a poisonous, deadly look. As far as their eyes could\n reach, the desolate, denuded vista stretched to the horizon. \n\n   \"Pretty much of a mess!\" Dennis Brooke's face was impassive as he\n turned to Scotty Byrnes. \"What's your opinion? Think we can patch her\n up, or are we stuck here indefinitely?\" \n\n   Scotty eyed the damage. The atom-blast had penetrated the hull into\n the forward fuel chambers and the armor had blossomed out like flower\n petals. The crash-landing had not helped either. \n\n   \"Well, there's a few beryloid plates in the storage locker, Captain,\n but,\" he scratched his head ruminatively and shifted his precious cud. \n\n   \"But what? Speak up man!\" It was Tom Jeffery, his nerves on edge, his\n ordinarily gentle voice like a lash. \n\n   \"But, you may as well know it,\" Scotty replied quietly. \"That parting\n shot of Koerber's severed our main rocket feed. I had to use the\n emergency tank to make it down here!\" \n\n   For a long moment the four men looked at each other in silence. Dennis\n Brooke's face was still impassive but for the flaming hazel eyes. Tom\n tugged at the torn sleeve of his I.S.P. uniform, while Scotty gazed\n mournfully at the damaged ship. Dallas Bernan looked at the long,\n ragged line of cliffs. \n\n   \"I think we got Koerber, though,\" he said at last. \"While Tom was doing\n a job of navigation, I had one last glimpse of him coming down fast\n and out of control somewhere behind those crags over there!\" \n\n   \"To hell with Koerber!\" Tom Jeffery exploded. \"You mean we're stuck in\n this hellish rock-pile?\" \n\n   \"Easy, Tom!\" Captain Brooke's tones were like ice. On his pale,\n impassive face, his eyes were like flaming topaz. \"Where's Randall?\" \n\n   \"Probably hiding his head under a bunk!\" Dallas laughed with scorn. His\n contemptuous remark voiced the feelings of the entire crew. A man who\n failed to be at his battle-station in time of emergency, had no place\n in the I.S.P. \n\n   \"Considering the gravity of this planetoid,\" Dennis Brooke said\n thoughtfully, \"it's going to take some blast to get us off!\" \n\n   \"Maybe we can locate a deposit of anerioum or uranium or something for\n our atom-busters to chew on!\" Scotty said hopefully. He was an eternal\n optimist. \n\n   \"Better break out those repair plates,\" Dennis said to Scotty. \"Tom,\n you get the welders ready. I've got a few entries to make in the log\n book, and then we'll decide on a party to explore the terrain and try\n to find out what happened to Koerber's ship. I must know,\" he said in a\n low voice, but with such passion that the others were startled. \n\n   A figure appeared in the slanting doorway of the ship in time to hear\n the last words. It was George Randall, adjusting a bandaged forehead\n bumped during the crash landing. \n\n   \"Captain ... I ... I wanted ...\" he paused unable to continue. \n\n   \"You wanted what?\" Captain Brooke's voice was terse. \"Perhaps you\n wanted to explain why you weren't at your battle station?\" \n\n   \"Sir, I wanted to know if ... if I might help Scotty with the welding\n job....\" That wasn't at all what he'd intended to say. But somehow the\n words had stuck in his throat and his face flushed deep scarlet. His\n candid blue eyes were suspiciously brilliant, and the white bandage\n with its crimson stains made an appealing, boyish figure. It softened\n the anger in Brooke's heart. Thinking it over calmly, Dennis realized\n this was the youngster's first trip into the outer orbits, and better\n men than he had cracked in those vast reaches of space. But there had\n been an instant when he'd found Randall cowering in the rocket-room, in\n the grip of paralyzing hysteria, when he could cheerfully have wrung\n his neck! \n\n   \"Certainly, Randall,\" he replied in a much more kindly tone. \"We'll\n need all hands now.\" \n\n   \"Thank you, sir!\" Randall seemed to hesitate for a moment, opened his\n mouth to speak further, but feeling the other's calculating gaze upon\n him, he whirled and re-entered the ship. \n\n   \"But for him we wouldn't be here!\" Dallas exclaimed. \"Aagh!\" He shook\n his head in disgust until the several folds of flesh under his chin\n shook like gelatin. \"Cowards are hell!\" He spat. \n\n   \"Easy, Dallas, Randall's a kid, give 'im a chance.\" Dennis observed. \n\n   \"You Captain ... you're defending 'im? Why you had a greater stake in\n this than we, and he's spoiled it for you!\" \n\n   \"Yep,\" Dennis nodded. \"But I'm still keeping my senses clear. No feuds\n on my ship. Get it!\" The last two words cut like a scimitar. \n\n   Dallas nodded and lowered his eyes. Scotty shifted his cud and spat\n a thin stream of juice over the iridescent ground. One by one they\n re-entered the cruiser.  \n", "source": "quality_raw", "evaluation": "exam"}
